


Nightcall

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Series: Dee's A.U.gust 2015 (booyah) [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: (kiiiiiinda), Alternate Universe, Brief mentions of Bipolar, Challenge: A.U.gust, F/F, Immortality, M/M, Non-graphic mentions of suicide, Soulmates, massive leaps through time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4681343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two siblings are given never ending life, and cursed to love and lose for all their days - unless they find (or <i>think</i> they have found) their soulmate, who they can share their gift with.</p><p>The only thing is - their soulmates are under no obligation to accept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightcall

**Author's Note:**

> first, huuuuuuuuge thank you to [sam](http://moonymarks.tumblr.com/) for being my badass cheerleader and beta for (most of) this fic, and putting up with a _lot_ of strange remarks and commentary (and snapchats, probably) during the writing of this fic. you're actually the best.
> 
> also i'd like to apologise for some of the weird shit in here (see: "precious flower dick", "cactus butt") bc i've been pretty fuckin tired when writing this. if there are any errors in here, don't hate me, it's fuckin 3am and i've just finished editing this. (i'll go back to it in a couple of days bc i know i'll have missed things.)
> 
> title from song of the same name by deadv.

_October 30 th, 1641, somewhere on the outskirts of Kiev, Ukraine._

He was fucking scared. He could hear his sister whimpering beside him on the cold earth, her hands probably tied behind her back, just like his, and a dirty cloth secured across her eyes. He had gotten her into this, and he would be damned before he let them hurt her, or take the blame for the actions that were his alone.

‘Leave her,’ he cried, struggling against his restraints and receiving a well-aimed kick for his efforts. ‘Let her go, it was me.’

‘She was involved, was she not?’ came the reply. A soft woman’s voice, tinged with the rasp of age, but still carrying the tones to be motherly, wise, kind. ‘Emanuela helped to carry out the act.’

‘She had no part,’ he said, moving himself into a kneeling position. ‘It was me. Emanuela was not involved.’

‘Mishka –’ the girl, Emanuela, began to protest, turning blindly towards the sound of his voice.

‘No, I will take the responsibility for it.’

‘You will _both_ take responsibility,’ the woman said, sounding tired of their attempts at martyrdom. She must have made a signal to the men holding Emanuela and Mishka, because their blindfolds were ripped away from their faces, exposing them to the gentle glow of a fire pit in front of them.

Emanuela and Mishka turned to glance briefly at each other, checking they were both okay and unharmed. Before they could say anything, the woman spoke again. ‘Confess your crime, and I will be lenient.’

Mishka made a move to stand and wobbled slightly as he faced the woman. ‘I am to blame. My sister was not part of it.’

The woman seemed unimpressed and jerked her head towards Emanuela. ‘You are trying to protect her. This is brave. Stupid, but brave. She will not go unpunished for her actions.’

‘You have _me_ ,’ Mishka said, desperately looking between the woman and his sister, who was being hauled to her feet by the men, the hem of her dress covered in clumps of mud and grass that had been overturned by horseshoes. ‘Why do you need her?’

‘We’re not doing anything with either of you,’ the woman said softly. ‘You have taken the life from one of ours, a girl beloved by many. You will pay for this.’

‘How?’ Mishka asked, afraid he might already know the answer.

‘You will watch everyone you love die,’ the woman said, lifting her head slightly, in a way that emphasised her position of power over them. ‘Then you will form new loves, and watch them die, also. You will never die, you will always love, and you will never be able to stop it.’

‘What?’ Mishka asked in confusion. ‘What does this mean?’

‘You will never die, Mikhailo,’ the woman repeated. ‘You will always love, and you will not be able to save all your beloveds.’

Emanuela blinked and looked down to her feet. ‘We will never be able to save them?’

‘Not all,’ the woman said softly. ‘We are not completely heartless. One day, you will love, and you will love so deeply, that it would be cruel, even by our thinking, to deny it,’ the woman sighed and nodded to the men behind Emanuela and Mikhailo, who unbound their wrists and pushed them closer towards the fire. ‘You will never die, you will always love, and you will save only one to be with you. Once you choose, you cannot take it back, so you must be sure you are choosing right.’

‘That hardly seems like a punishment,’ Emanuela said quietly, looking into the flames and seeing images of herself, hair long and hanging straight down her back, small clothes fitted to her body as she turned to smile at someone she had not yet met. ‘To spend eternity with the one you love.’

‘You will always love. Over and over and over, until you cannot take it,’ the woman said, drawing Emanuela’s attention from the fire. ‘You will never want to love again.’

‘Love does not exist,’ Mikhailo scoffed, as he, too, looked into the flames. He hardly recognised his self in the images he saw there, hair being pushed back by illustrated fingers, as he sat with someone in a shaded patch of grass.

‘You will see it does,’ the woman replied. ‘And when you do, you will have no choice but to lose yourself to it.’

Mikhailo and Emanuela glanced warily at each other, then back to the woman, with her colourful clothes and eyes aglow with the fire’s light. ‘Forever?’ Emanuela asked. ‘We will do this forever?’

The woman nodded in confirmation. ‘Until you wish you could die.’

 

* * *

 

 

_May 17 th, 1783, somewhere near Paris, France._

‘I’m quite tired of this, Mishka,’ Emanuela sighed, folding her hands across her stomach, as they lay in the grass and looked up at the sky.

‘What, love?’ Mikhailo asked, turning his head and being met with his sister’s hair blowing gently into his face.

‘Mm,’ she hummed, sighing quietly and facing him, studying his face intently. ‘You look old.’

Mikhailo huffed and turned his face back to the clouds. ‘We’ve been doing this too long.’

Emanuela tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and reached behind her to grasp one of Mikhailo’s hands, which were folded under his head. ‘I think it may be time to move on, Mishka.’

Mikhailo squeezed her hand and nodded. ‘I think so.’

 

* * *

 

 

_April 9 th, 1842, London, England._

‘I think he’s the one,’ Emanuela said, sighing happily as she sank into Mikhailo’s armchair and smiled at him. ‘He’s the one I give lasting life to, Mishka.’

Mikhailo rolled his eyes and folded down the top of his newspaper. ‘First, stop calling me that. Second, you’ve said that about every man you’ve courted for the past three decades.’

Emanuela raised an eyebrow and looked incredulously at her brother. ‘Fine, _Mickey_. And I haven’t –’

‘You just don’t want to be alone,’ Mickey interrupted. ‘The whole _point_ of being cursed is so things are difficult, Emanuela. Besides, he’s married.’

‘He’s not married!’

‘He’s married and he is unfaithful with more than just you,’ Mickey replied.

Emanuela’s jaw dropped, before her expression turned to one of fury. ‘I don’t need you to follow him, Mikhailo. I don’t need you to protect me!’

Mickey smiled and flicked his newspaper back up. ‘I’m not following him, and I’m not saying this to protect _or_ hurt you.’

‘Then why are you telling me these lies?’

‘He’s not a smart man,’ Mickey mused, closing his newspaper so he could watch his sister and witness the full effect of his news. ‘Apparently he didn’t think two people with the same last name were related.’

‘Mikhailo,’ Emanuela warned, sitting up in her chair and narrowing her eyes. ‘Speak.’

‘Well,’ Mickey sighed and straightened his shirt slightly. ‘I’m telling you this so you won’t be too surprised when he comes out down from my bedroom.’

Though he knew it was impossible, for a brief moment as his sister launched herself at him, Mickey thought he was going to die.

 

* * *

 

_December 31 st, 1899, Odessa, Ukraine._

Mickey smiled as he tapped his glass against his sister’s, and looked out the window towards where they had been told the fireworks would be at midnight. ‘Happy new year, Emanuela.’

‘It’s not the new year yet, Mishka,’ Emanuela snorted, shaking her head in amusement.

‘Might as well be,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘What’s a few minutes to an immortal?’

Emanuela sighed and her smile dropped. ‘We’ve seen more than our share of new years.’

‘More than our share of new centuries,’ Mickey agreed.

‘I’m so tired, Mickey,’ Emanuela whispered, clutching her brother’s hand as they ignored the rest of the people at the party behind them and watched intently for the fireworks. ‘I don’t know how much more of this I can bear.’

‘Remember what she said?’ Mickey asked quietly, sipping from his champagne as he stared at the dark sky. ‘“You will love until you wish you could die.” That’s our punishment.’

‘I didn’t think it would be this hard.’

‘I thought it would be harder.’

‘You have no heart,’ Emanuela chided softly. ‘That’s why this has been easy on you.’

‘And you have enough heart for the both of us,’ Mickey replied.

‘We should make a deal.’

‘Mm?’

‘You should love more.’

‘And you should love less?’ Mickey said, filling the rest of his sister’s sentence. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘Then you can harden. I cannot soften, Emanuela.’

Emanuela gasped lightly as the sky was filled with brightly coloured lights. ‘The new year!’ she said, all traces of their conversation gone from her face as her eyes reflected the fireworks outside. ‘Happy new year, my brother.’

Mickey decided to let her drop the subject. ‘Happy new year, sister,’ he smiled, kissing her cheek. ‘May this year be easier than the last.’

Emanuela clinked their glasses together in agreement, and murmured, ‘I’ll drink to that.’

 

* * *

 

  _June 29 th, 1914, Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina._

‘Mickey,’ Emanuela said calmly, folding closed her newspaper and standing to approach her brother at their small table in the kitchen. ‘I think we need to leave Europe.’

Mickey looked up from his book and closed it to give his full attention to his sister. ‘I think so too.’

 

* * *

 

_September 20 th, 1969, New York City._

‘Mickey!’ Emanuela sang, skipping down the hallway to their living room, where her brother was lying in the middle of the floor, smoking cigarettes and listening to _I’d Rather Go Blind_ on their record player.

‘What?’ Mickey asked, blowing out a cloud of smoke and turning his head towards his sister. ‘What could you possibly want of me right now?’

‘It’s your birthday!’ she said happily. ‘We’re going out tonight.’

‘Emanuela –’

‘It’s _Mandy_ ,’ she corrected, kicking him in the side. ‘Don’t be mean, do you know how long it took me to come up with that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. A little over three hundred years?’ Mickey rolled his eyes and turned back to the ceiling. ‘Leave me alone.’

‘But it’s your birthday,’ Mandy repeated, sinking to the floor and stealing his cigarette. ‘You don’t turn three hundred and fifty every day!’

‘Yeah, most people also don’t turn _one_ hundred,’ Mickey snatched his cigarette back and ignored the whine from his sister. ‘Leave me alone.’

‘Mickey –’

‘Mandy.’

‘Fine,’ Mandy huffed, standing up and brushing down her jeans. ‘I look okay?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out. If you’re not celebrating, then _I_ am,’ she grinned.

‘What’s the point in celebrating someone’s birthday when they’re not even _there_?’ he yelled, as she flounced down the hallway back towards her bedroom. ‘Mandy, Jesus, come back!’

‘No!’ she called. ‘I’m getting my bag, and I’m going out!’

‘But _why_?’

‘I’m going to bake you a cake, at least!’ she hollered, reappearing. ‘Lend me some money?’

‘No, fuck off, you’ve got enough of your own,’ Mickey said, reaching for his packet of cigarettes, to find that the box was empty. ‘Hey, you got me a present yet?’

‘Yep.’

‘Shit.’

‘Why, what did you want?’ Mandy asked, popping her head into Mickey’s line of vision, her dark hair swirling around her face.

‘New box,’ Mickey said, waving the empty one in her face.

Mandy rolled her eyes and grabbed it from his hand to throw it in the trash. ‘Fine, I’ll get you some of those as well. But _only_ because you’re three hundred and fifty, now.’

Mickey grinned. ‘Thanks, sis.’

‘Uh huh,’ she nodded and turned away to leave. ‘Don’t party too hard without me!’

‘This is the extent of my partying, Mandy.’

‘Good. Keep it to the moody brooding.’

Mickey flipped her off, and heard her laugh as she left the apartment.

What the fuck was the point in being this damn old, with only his sister to put up with?

 

* * *

 

 

_July 4 th, 2004, Chicago, Illinois._

Ian was eight the first time they met, however brief it might have been.

There was a street party going on to celebrate the Fourth of July, and Ian was playing hide and seek with a bunch of the other kids on the block. He had recently found a really great place for hiding (in the bushes behind the lifeguard chair at the Gallaghers’ pool), and seeing as he was currently on the wrong side of the road, and running out of time to hide, he sprinted across the tarmac, without looking both ways, even though Fiona had been nagging him about it the whole damn summer.

It was a few moments after Ian’s feet hit the road, that he was picked up and dropped on the grass on the other side of the road, a car horn blaring as he looked up from the ground.

Ian looked around in confusion, and saw an older (okay, not that old, maybe just college aged) guy with dark hair, kneeling beside him.

‘You okay, kid?’ the guy asked. ‘You gotta look before you run across the road.’

‘But it’s a street party,’ Ian said. ‘No one uses their car at a street party.’

‘Assholes do,’ the guy said seriously. ‘You coulda been hit by that car and died.’

‘But I _didn’t._ ’

‘No, because I knocked you out of the way,’ the guy sighed and shook his head. ‘I gotta go. Look both ways next time, okay?’

Ian narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the guy but nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Good,’ he said, standing up. ‘Bye.’

‘Bye,’ Ian said, watching the guy stand up and brush the dead, dry grass off his knees with tattooed hands, and walk off down the block to join a girl with hair as dark as his own.

Ian didn’t expect to see him again.

(Then again, no one ever expects fate.)

 

* * *

 

 

_November 9 th, 2012, Chicago, Illinois._

It was fucking cold, and Ian was pretty much regretting everything that had led up to this point.

First, he had let himself get sucked in by Monica’s enthusiasm and encouragement, and honestly, he hadn’t thought there would be any harm in going along with her. It was nice to be the centre of attention for once, y’know? Even if it was only for a few hours and wouldn’t last. It was nice that someone cared enough about who he was to take him out and let him immerse himself in it.

Which was more or less how Ian had ended up here, partially abandoned in Boystown by his mother, after she had been whisked away by some not-quite-Bob/Roberta. Ian was alone, pretty fucking lost, and vulnerable as all hell.

He decided to keep his head down, because God knew who might be stalking around in the shadows, and get his ass home. Somehow.

‘Hey, kid,’ someone said, the sound of footsteps following Ian as he rounded a corner quickly.

‘Jesus, you wanna stop running?’ the same person said, footsteps speeding up as they came into a light jog to catch up to Ian. ‘Man, I’m not about to jump you or whatever.’

Ian didn’t slow, and didn’t look over his shoulder, but he did reply. ‘What do you want?’

‘You look lost. Need help or something?’

‘I’m not lost.’

‘That’s what people who are lost say.’

Ian rolled his eyes and stopped to look over his shoulder. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name’s Mickey,’ the guy – Mickey – said, slowing down as he caught up to Ian. ‘Where’re you tryna get?’

‘The L,’ Ian said, turning back around and starting up his brisk pace again.

‘You’re going the wrong way,’ the guy huffed in frustration. ‘Look, you can chill the fuck out and let me help you, or you can keep wandering around like you know where you’re going. Choice is yours.’

Ian stopped walking and turned back around to face Mickey. ‘Fine. You wanna give me directions then?’

Mickey tucked his hands into his pockets and nodded his head back the way they had just come down the street. ‘This way then.’

Ian sighed and looked up to the sky. Clouds were rolling in overhead, and he really didn’t still want to be wherever the fuck he currently was when they burst. He brought his shoulders up and buried his face into his scarf, as he walked up to where Mickey was standing and waiting for him. ‘Let’s go then.’

Mickey nodded and set off at a pace Ian had no trouble keeping, taking him through mostly deserted streets that Ian didn’t recognise, and after about ten tense, silent minutes, led them to an L station.

‘Thanks,’ Ian muttered, heading up the stairs, and turning around when Mickey followed him up the stairs. ‘Why’re you coming up?’

‘Catching the train, what about you?’ Mickey replied, jerking his head up to the station. ‘You’re gonna make us both miss the next one if you don’t get your ass up there, man.’

Ian rolled his eyes and continued up, hearing the tell-tale noises of an approaching train. ‘God, you were right.’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey yawned and got on the train with Ian when it rolled to a stop in front of them, taking one of the seats facing the standing area. Now that they were in some proper light, they had the chance to actually _see_ each other. ‘How old are you, kid?’

‘Sixteen,’ Ian said, puffing his chest out slightly as he clutched the pole to avoid falling over. ‘I’m not a kid.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘How old are _you_?’

Mickey laughed quietly. ‘Old enough to legally get into clubs.’

Ian eyed him. ‘Yeah, I bet you are.’

‘The fuck is that supposed to mean?’

Ian shrugged. ‘You look old.’

‘ _Excuse_ me?’ Mickey’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. ‘I look _old_?’

‘Yeah, I mean…’ Ian trailed off. ‘Like you’ve been around the block a few times.’

Mickey visibly relaxed. ‘Yeah, you could say that.’

Ian looked at him more carefully, and something about Mickey reminded him of someone else he had briefly met. ‘I don’t know you, do I?’ he asked.

Mickey looked over. ‘Never seen you before in my life.’

‘Are you sure though?’ Ian tilted his head and a little voice in his head was yelling to _shut the fuck up!_ but Ian ignored it and continued speaking his train of thought. ‘When I was eight, I nearly got hit by a car, you know.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘Some young guy pushed me outta the way,’ Ian continued, unperturbed by Mickey’s interruption. He took a seat next to Mickey after the train jolted forwards and he lost his balance, deciding it was probably the safer option to sit. ‘No idea who it was, but all I remember was he had dark hair and was some kind of moon child or something.’

‘Moon what?’

‘Moon child,’ Ian repeated. ‘Pale as fuck. Looked like he was going to disintegrate in the sun.’

‘Why the fuck do I care?’

Ian shrugged and settled into his seat as he looked over to Mickey and assessed him quietly. ‘You just remind me of him, I guess. Not that I really remember him exactly.’

That was when Mickey remembered. _Shit._ They had met before. Mickey hadn’t considered it a memory important enough to keep, but now that Ian was mentioning it, he had done that. Jesus, had it been eight years since then? If Mickey was the sort of person who believed in that sort of shit, he might’ve said it was fate or something – that he would save the life of a kid, then help him when he was lost. And the kid was gay.

Mickey eyed Ian, much like the way Ian was doing to him. Kid wasn’t _bad_ looking. But Mickey was definitely not about to do him. He felt like getting involved with a sixteen year old was some sort of taboo. (Not like it would be better in a couple of years – Mickey would still be almost 380 years older than him.)

Mickey cleared his throat and looked back out the window, away from Ian. ‘Got no idea what you’re talking about.’

Ian nodded. ‘Yeah, okay.’

They sat in silence until the train pulled up to Ian’s stop.

‘Thanks, I guess,’ Ian said, standing up and tugging on the scarf around his neck. ‘I’ll see you ‘round?’

Mickey lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, and looked up to Ian. ‘Maybe.’

Ian huffed in amusement, taking that for the _“no”_ it was. ‘Alright then,’ he murmured, making his way off the train. He didn’t look back as he stepped onto the platform.

For some reason, Mickey was disappointed about that.

 

* * *

 

 

_December 3 rd, 2014, Chicago, Illinois._

The club was sweltering. It was fucking freezing outside, probably snowing by now, but inside, Mickey was tempted to follow the example of other patrons and strip down to his fucking boxers. He wouldn’t, because he had slightly more self-control than that, but holy shit, did he want to. He wasn’t even dancing, but looking at the people on the dancefloor was just… getting to him. He was sweating in solidarity with those braving the packed space and grinding up against the rest of the crowd.

Mickey had been coming here for a few months by now, and he hadn’t danced. It wasn’t his style. He was more into beers in a dark corner by himself, where he could see everyone, but no one could see him, which saved him from getting accosted by anyone.

Usually, Mickey moved from city to city, club to club, but he and Mandy had decided they quite liked Chicago, and had been here for the better part of forty years. Sometimes Mickey was perfectly happy to stay home and bask in his abstinence, but every few years, he just really needed to go out and find someone to fuck.

Might’ve been his way of sticking it to the woman who cursed him however many years ago, because the less he went out and the less he saw people, the less chance he had of falling in love with someone. He had gotten close, he supposed, to falling in love with people. He even _had_ fallen, once or twice, but they definitely weren’t the person he knew he was supposed to love. _Really_ love.

Mickey felt like something was different this time. Something was stirring. He didn’t know what it was, and the feeling was unfamiliar, but he knew something was going to happen soon. Maybe he would have the best fuck of his life. Maybe he’d fall in love.

Maybe it would be with the same person.

He was pondering these things over his steadily warming beer when he saw him. The redhead. Was it the same one Mickey had met a couple years ago? Mickey had no idea. People all sort of blurred together after a few decades. Especially ones under strobe lights.

Mickey swallowed down the last of his beer and stood up. He needed to get home to Mandy. In the plot twist to end all plot twists, she had been strong enough to hold out and not give her gift of immortality to anyone yet, but there was someone she had been seeing and fawning over for the past few months, and Mickey wanted to make sure she wasn’t fucking anything up.

But just because Mickey was leaving didn’t mean he couldn’t subtly check out the redhead. (Dude had some serious muscle action going on, and Mickey wasn’t enough of a social hermit to turn down a closer look at it.)

As he got closer, he realised that, _shit_ , this was that little redhead kid. Mickey was pondering how smoothly he could turn and head for the door, but his thought process was interrupted by his name being called over the din.

‘Mickey?’

Mickey turned as he felt a hand land on his shoulder. ‘Yes?’ he said, meeting the face of the redhead. ‘You need something?’

God, Mickey wished he remembered this kid’s name. ‘Remember me?’

‘Vaguely,’ Mickey offered.

‘Ian,’ the guy reminded him. ‘You helped me out a little while ago.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey let his eyes drift up and down his body slowly. ‘Looks like you found your way back.’

‘Of my own accord, promise,’ Ian smiled. ‘You haven’t changed, from what I remember.’

‘You fuckin’ have.’

‘Mm,’ Ian laughed and gestured grandly at himself. ‘Puberty’s been kind.’

Mickey raised his eyebrows pointedly, in a way that said, _“Fuck yeah, it has.”_ He didn’t say that. Instead, he settled for, ‘I see that.’

‘You wanna, um…’ Ian scratched the back of his neck, and Mickey found it hard to believe that a guy wearing eyeliner, and glittery golden booty shorts, was at all self-conscious. ‘Get a drink or something? Catch up? My shift ends in twenty minutes.’

Mickey bit his lip. Tempting. But Mandy’s thing seemed a bit more pressing. He’d never hear the end of it if she chose someone who ended up being a total asshole. ‘Nah man.’

Ian’s face dropped. ‘Oh.’

‘I have something to do tonight,’ Mickey continued, watching Ian’s face as a tiny glimmer of hope appeared in his face. ‘Tomorrow?’

Ian’s smile returned. ‘Yeah, perfect. I’m not working tomorrow night, so you wanna go somewhere else?’

‘Sure.’

‘Know the little diner a couple blocks over? The one that always has a dog lying inside it?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Seven-ish?’

‘Seven-ish,’ Ian agreed. ‘I’ll let you get back to your thing. It was good to see you.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said. ‘You too.’ _Really fucking good._

Maybe something in Mickey’s face gave away that thought, but then Ian grinned and said, ‘Thanks,’ so maybe Mickey had said that out loud. Whoops.

Mickey cleared his throat and turned around, heading towards the exit, so he could pick up his coat and get to Mandy’s.

 

* * *

 

 

‘I really fucking like her though,’ Mandy grumped, pacing around in front of her couch, glaring at Mickey each time she passed him. ‘She’s wonderful, and amazing, and smart, and she’s funny as hell.’

‘Look,’ Mickey sighed. ‘I’m not saying _don’t_ , I’m just saying don’t _yet_. You haven’t known her long, Mands. You need to make sure she’s the one.’

‘I’m pretty sure she is.’

‘Mandy, Jesus. Give it a couple of months, okay? You can’t just drag someone into this shit,’ he said, taking a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and offering it to his sister. ‘What if one day she wants to settle down and get married to some accountant and breed accountant spawn or something?’

Mandy rolled her eyes as she took the cigarette and lighter from her brother. ‘She’s not that sort of person, trust me.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Yeah, she sort of works as the manager of a brothel…’ Mandy bit her lip and raised her eyebrows questioningly at her brother as she lit the stick between her lips. ‘Like, one full of illegal Russian immigrants.’

‘No shit?’

‘No shit.’

‘She’s Russian, then?’ Mickey asked.

‘Yeah.’ Mandy got this glassed over look in her eyes, and Mickey felt like he might have made a mistake asking. ‘She’s tall and willowy and has the most gorgeous eyes.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Fucking Christ, we’re so gay.’

‘ _You’re_ so gay. I’m just open to all possibilities,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘At the moment, I’d say I’m very Svetlana-sexual.’

‘Uh huh.’

Mandy studied her brother as she took a drag from her cigarette. ‘What’s up your ass?’

‘Absolutely nothing.’

‘Found a cute guy, huh?’

‘What?’

‘You were at that club when I called you, right?’ Mandy asked. ‘What, he a bartender? Bouncer? Ooh, he could manhandle you, couldn’t he?’

Mickey blushed. ‘None of the above.’ _He could probably manhandle Mickey though… Maybe. Definitely_. Mickey would play weak to let him _._ ‘Dancer.’

‘A stripper?’

‘Dancer.’ Mickey corrected.

‘Damn,’ Mandy grinned. ‘You got it bad for a stripper?’

‘No, I don’t. We’re friends. Acquaintances. Going for coffee or something tomorrow.’

‘Just friends?’

‘Yeah.’

Mandy barked a laugh. ‘A friend you want to put his dick in you, though, right?’

Mickey groaned and closed his eyes, as he rested his head against the back of her couch. ‘Just friends.’

‘It won’t stay that way.’

Mickey could practically hear her winking.

 

* * *

 

 

_December 4 th, 2014, Chicago, Illinois._

Mickey brushed the snow off his shoulders as he entered the diner and scanned the booths for the redhead. It looked like he wasn’t there yet, so Mickey took the time to go quickly to the bathroom to check his hair or something. Maybe take a quick pee while he was there.

Mickey wasn’t one to get nervous easily (definitely not after having this long to learn a few tricks to tame them) but something about this guy had him with sweaty palms and the urge to compulsively check his appearance. That in itself was really fucking unsettling to Mickey. (He was in no way prepared for what was coming.)

Mickey took a seat at a booth when he came back out and took a look at the menu, ordering a bowl of fries when the waitress came over. Mickey looked at his phone while he waited for his food, and saw it was already seven. The fact that Ian was possibly going to be late really didn’t bother Mickey. Time means nothing when you have an infinite life span.

Mickey’s fries arrived before Ian did, and he snacked slowly on them, ignoring his sister’s inquiring texts, and finally giving in when she called him.

 _‘Mickey, what’s happening?’_ Mandy asked immediately, not even waiting for her brother to acknowledge her.

‘He’s not here yet.’

_‘Are you sure?’_

‘Pretty fucking sure.’

 _‘Are you_ totally _sure, though?’_

‘Jesus Christ, Mands. Yes. I am totally sure he’s not here,’ Mickey said tiredly, taking another fry and chewing on the tip slowly. ‘And don’t ask me if I’ve misplaced him or don’t know what he looks like or something stupid like that.’

Mandy was quiet for a few moments as she considered her brother’s words. _‘Yeah, okay. What are you eating?’_

‘Fries. Why?’

_‘Bring me some.’_

‘What, now?’

_‘No, like, on your way home.’_

‘No, fuck you,’ Mickey said, leaning back in his chair and trying to prop his feet up on the bench at the other side of the booth. (His legs were a couple inches too short and Mickey swore silently at the woman who cursed him before he had finished growing – shit, he probably _was_ finished growing at that time.) ‘I won’t be back for a while. Go get your own.’

 _‘You’re not very nice to me,’_ Mandy whined. _‘Please?’_

‘I’ve been stuck with your ass for how many fuckin’ centuries and you don’t know by now how _not_ nice I am?’ Mickey hissed. ‘God, all Svetlana’s glitter has got into your head.’

_‘Svieta doesn’t have glitter.’_

‘How do you know?’

 _‘How do you know he loves you?’_ Mandy sang. _‘How do you know he’s yours?’_

‘I’m hanging up on you,’ Mickey said, ignoring Mandy’s outburst and eyeing the door as Ian, damp from the melting snow on his head, stepped into the diner.

_‘You’re fucking rude.’_

‘No, he’s here,’ Mickey murmured. ‘Bye.’

 _‘Ooh, okay. Good luck! Hope he’s got a good dick!’_ Mandy said happily, ending the call before Mickey got the chance to reply to that.

Ian scanned the diner and smiled brightly when he saw Mickey sitting at his booth. ‘Hey,’ Ian greeted, sliding into the bench opposite Mickey. ‘I see you made it.’

‘Yeah. Fries?’ he offered, sliding his bowl halfway to Ian.

‘Thanks,’ Ian smiled, picking up a couple and popping them in his mouth. ‘Hope you weren’t waiting long.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Nah. Just long enough to get some food.’

‘Well in that case, I’m glad you were here early,’ Ian laughed. ‘So, uh. How are you?’

‘Fine, I guess. Why’re you back at that club?’ Mickey asked, skipping straight to the interrogation part of the night. ‘Last time I saw you, you were a fuckin’ stick boy tryna get away from it?’

Ian sighed and his smile faltered. ‘Shit happens, I guess.’

‘Oh?’

‘Mm. The kinda shit you don’t really spring on a first date, I guess,’ Ian said, looking up at Mickey to see if he objected to the _“first date”_.

To Ian’s (and Mickey’s) surprise, he said nothing to refute it. ‘I know the feeling,’ Mickey replied instead.

‘So now you’ve asked _your_ burning question, can I ask mine?’

Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘I suppose.’

‘How the fuck do you still look so _young_? I swear to God, you’re the same dude who knocked me out of the way of that car when I was eight,’ Ian tilted his head and picked out a particularly crispy fry. He gestured at Mickey’s head with it, before biting it in half. ‘I mean, you look _exactly_ the same.’

‘How do you know it was me?’

‘You’ve got very distinctive knuckle tattoos,’ Ian smiled. ‘Don’t know if you’d noticed that.’

Mickey looked down to his hands and flexed his hands self-consciously. He had got the _FUCK U-UP_ done only about fifteen years ago, during a (not so) drunken night out with Mandy. It was kind of a bad choice, because he’d be needing to get them touched up occasionally for the rest of his life.

He thought they were fitting though – Mickey had the power to well and truly fuck someone up. Whether that be by actually fighting them, or giving them immortality, or even falling in love with someone. God knew how badly it would fuck someone over to see him stay young while they grew older.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said softly. ‘Suppose I do.’

‘So?’

‘So what?’

‘Was it you?’ Ian asked. ‘The guy who moved me?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

Ian took that as a yes. ‘Which brings me to my other question. How do you still look the same?’

Mickey scoffed and rolled his eyes. ‘Maybe it’s Maybelline, maybe it’s a gypsy curse,’ he said before he could stop himself.

‘A gypsy curse?’ Ian laughed. ‘Could be worse. So it’s just like… _“Drink water, wash your face, eat healthy”_ kinda shit?’

Part of Mickey deflated at the realisation that Ian had laughed the truth off as a joke. ‘Whatever.’

‘Or is it just really good prosthetics and you’re a hideous, gross old dude under it all?’

‘Nope.’ _Sadly._

‘Damn,’ Ian said, looking impressed and waving down the waitress. ‘Gotta get me some water.’

 

* * *

 

 

 _‘So how’s it going?’_ Mandy asked.

Mickey sighed and tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. ‘Fine, I think.’

_‘Oh yeah? Have you told that joke about the eggplant? If you have, the date’s gonna fail.’_

‘What the fuck do you have against that joke? It’s fucking hilarious,’ Mickey said, turning and looking back into the diner quickly, where Ian was sitting at their booth, texting someone, if the hunch of his shoulders was anything to go by.

_‘No, it’s not. Gonna take him home?’_

‘I don’t fuckin’ know, Mands,’ Mickey exhaled a cloud of smoke and shivered as a gust of cold wind blew through his jacket. ‘Maybe I’ll bring him to yours and we’ll fuck in your guest room.’

_‘Could you not? Svieta’s here.’_

‘Perfect, I’ll pretend he’s a pinkie toe and bang him on your kitchen island,’ Mickey replied.

‘Bang who on the kitchen island?’ Ian asked, appearing at Mickey’s side, having apparently thought they were leaving or something.

 _‘Ooh, is that him?’_ Mandy said. _‘Pass me over.’_

‘No, fuck you,’ Mickey said, hanging up and turning to face Ian, flicking his burnt out cigarette away. ‘Didn’t know you were there.’

‘Uh huh,’ Ian said, amused. ‘Why are we banging on an island though? I could go for that.’

‘Not at my sister’s house you couldn’t.’

Ian bit his lip and looked thoughtful. ‘Dunno, I could work with it.’

‘Voyeuristic streak, huh?’

‘You’d have to wait and see,’ Ian winked.

Mickey huffed in amusement. ‘Jesus, we’ve known each other like an hour and you’re already planning future sex excursions. Pretty confident there, huh?’

‘Well, it’s been more than an hour. More like… ten years?’

‘No.’

‘Two years?’

‘Don’t think it counts.’

‘I do,’ Ian grinned. ‘Besides, I really do wanna bang you but I have a _no sex within the first hour_ rule.’

‘Oh really?’ Mickey cocked an eyebrow and lit up a new cigarette. ‘Interesting.’

‘So?’

‘What?’

‘Yours or mine?’ Ian frowned. ‘Yours. My family wouldn’t appreciate that.’

‘You live at home?’

‘Where else am I supposed to live?’ Ian asked. ‘Lead the way. Unless you don’t want to..?’

Mickey sighed. God, it felt weird. This kid was barely eighteen, and he didn’t know anything about the world. Mickey couldn’t possibly fall for him, yet he found himself wanting to be around this walking ray of sunshine. Mickey felt warmed by his damn presence. This guy wouldn’t be _the one_. No harm in fucking him.

Right?

 

* * *

 

 

_December 5 th, 2014, Chicago, Illinois._

Mickey was cringing away from the sound before he was even fully awake. ‘Ugh, fuck off,’ he moaned, wiggling backwards into the warm body behind him.

Mickey’s phone blatantly ignored him and continued ringing. It paused briefly as his voicemail picked up, but then it started going again, and it seemed to be even louder this time. Maybe he was just fully awake now, so it didn’t have to penetrate his sleeping mind to register.

‘Just answer it,’ Ian murmured. ‘It’s not gonna stop.’

‘Fuck,’ Mickey groaned. ‘Fine.’ He reached out and felt around blindly for it, accepting the call and holding it up to his ear without needing to open his eyes. He knew who it was. ‘The fuck do you want?’

 _‘It’s her,’_ Mandy said, sounding panicked. _‘Svieta. It’s her.’_

‘What?’

 _‘Svieta is the person from my flashback!’_ Mandy said, her voice going up a few octaves as she started speaking louder.

Mickey sat up and rubbed his eyes. ‘Calm down, fuck. What happened?’

_‘Kiev. The curse. We looked in the fire, right?’_

‘Right…’

_‘I saw myself dancing with someone in this really cute dress?’_

‘Okay…’

 _‘I bought it a couple weeks ago without even thinking about it, and me and Svieta went dancing tonight…’_ Mandy trailed off and whimpered quietly. _‘Mick, it’s her. I’m freaking the fuck out.’_

‘Why?’

_‘I’m fucking scared!’_

Mickey sighed and looked at his alarm clock. _02:53._ ‘What do you want me to do?’

 _‘Come over! Help me!’_ Mandy screeched. Mickey could hear her pacing in a pair of her killer heels, as they clacked against the hardwood floors of her apartment.

‘With what? How am I supposed to help you?’ Mickey asked. ‘I can’t do anything. If she’s it, she’s it.’

_‘And she’s fucking it!’_

‘Mands, I –’

_‘Please just come over, Mick. I can’t deal with this by myself.’_

‘Mandy –’

_‘Mishka, please.’_

Mickey let out a deep sigh and pushed his hair back. ‘Okay, fine. I’ll be there soon. Calm down, yeah?’

_‘Not fucking likely!’_

‘I know. I’ll be there soon,’ Mickey said again, hanging up before his sister could yell at him some more.

‘You going somewhere?’ Ian asked.

‘Yeah, my sister’s having a crisis,’ Mickey replied, standing and getting himself a pair of boxers from the drawer. ‘Sorry, but I gotta go.’

‘You want me to leave?’

‘You can if you want. I don’t know how long this’ll take, but I don’t really want you wandering the streets either.’

‘You’re such an old man,’ Ian muttered. ‘I’ll stay here. I promise not to advertise your apartment on Craigslist as a hotspot for orgies or anything.’

‘I’m choosing to ignore how weirdly specific that is, but I appreciate it,’ Mickey smiled, pulling a hoodie on over the t-shirt he found. ‘I’ll try to make it quick, but I’m not promising anything, because my sister can take a while to calm down when she’s in this state.’

‘Okay. What even happened? Boyfriend dumped her?’

Mickey laughed and yanked on some socks as he searched for his boots. ‘Nah, she thinks she might be in love with her girlfriend.’

‘Wow, I was so far off the mark,’ Ian said, shaking his head and rolling onto his back. ‘Good luck. Sisters are scary when they’re in love.’

‘Don’t I fuckin’ know it,’ Mickey muttered, finally finding his boots and cramming his feet into them. ‘Help yourself to food if you’re hungry or whatever.’

‘Nah, gonna go back to sleep.’

‘Okay. I’ll see you later.’

‘Yep,’ Ian sighed and nestled into Mickey’s sheets. ‘I’ll be here.’

Mickey smiled as Ian curled into a ball and pulled the blankets over his head. ‘Night, then.’

‘Mm. Night night,’ Ian replied, his voice muffled by the layers he was under.

Mickey laughed to himself and left his apartment to head to Mandy’s. He hoped she hadn’t worn a path into her floors with her pacing yet.

 

* * *

 

 

Mickey let himself quietly into Mandy’s apartment. He hoped that maybe she had worn herself out, and had gone to bed to sleep, but knowing her, she had stopped pacing, and was sitting somewhere, brooding.

Sure enough, as Mickey rounded the corner into her apartment, he saw Mandy on her couch, a can of beer in front of her, and a half smoked cigarette sitting on the edge of her ashtray. ‘Mandy?’ he called softly. ‘You okay?’

Mandy shrugged and turned to face her brother. ‘I don’t know.’

Mickey sighed and dropped onto the couch beside her. ‘So you’ve found your person.’

‘I’ve found my person,’ she agreed. ‘What do I do?’

‘Save her, apparently,’ Mickey said, taking Mandy’s cigarette and taking a pull from it, before offering it back to her silently. ‘That’s what you’re supposed to do.’

‘I don’t know if I love her yet, though.’

‘No one said you had to do it as soon as you found her. You probably don’t even _need_ to do it.’

‘But what if I end up loving her so much I can’t live without her?’

‘Then you will anyway,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Part of being immortal, I guess.’

‘So what are my options?’ Mandy asked, sinking back into her couch and looking up miserably to her brother.

‘One, tell her the truth, watch her freak out,’ Mickey said, counting on his fingers. ‘Two, tell her the truth, do the fuckin’… the thing? Do the thing, and live happily ever after.’

‘And there’s an option three?’

‘Mhmm. Three,’ Mickey frowned and sighed as he scratched the back of his neck. ‘Three, do nothing and say nothing and she’ll probably die and you’ll be fuckin’ miserable and I’ll have to deal with you being a sad sack of shit for the rest of my fuckin’ life.’

Mandy narrowed her eyes at him and flipped him the bird. ‘Asshole. Why’d you have to make it about you?’

‘Wasn’t, it’s the fuckin’ truth.’ Mickey shrugged and yawned. ‘Just fuckin’ tell her, Mandy. Can I go now?’

‘Why? Did I interrupt something with my fucking _potential love of my life_ crisis?’

‘Yeah, actually,’ Mickey said defensively.

‘Oh?’ Mandy leaned forward, and raised her eyebrows, happy to involve herself in her brother’s business, instead of revelling in the shitiness that was her current predicament. ‘Did I interrupt a good dicking?’

Mickey snorted and stood up. ‘The “dicking” was done, and please never call it that ever again.’

‘Would you prefer “penetration”?’ Mandy asked. ‘Or “love making?’

‘I’d prefer you stopped concerning yourself with my ass so much, actually.’

Mandy grinned happily. ‘Well, I suppose this means your run of abstinence has officially come to an end, huh?’

‘For now.’

‘He cute?’

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ Mickey said. ‘I saved his life when he was eight and he remembers.’

‘Really? What did you tell him?’

‘He asked why I looked so good for my age or some shit and I said _“Maybe it’s Maybelline, maybe it’s a gypsy curse,”_ and he actually laughed. In my face.’

‘Dear God, he laughed at your joke? He’s got a shitty sense of humour, huh?’

‘Fuck you,’ Mickey replied haughtily. ‘My jokes are golden. I’m going home. Enjoy your crisis.’

As Mickey turned and made for the door, he heard Mandy call out to him. ‘Hey, Mick?’

‘What?’ Mickey asked, pausing at the doorway, and seeing his sister looking small and worried on the edge of her couch. Mandy was close to 400 years old – she had seen some shit, and been through wars that threatened even them, but in that moment, she looked like she was only a scared twenty year old. The last time Mickey remembered her looking like that, they were facing a dead girl in the centre of their living room.

‘Nothing bad’s gonna happen to her, right? If I don’t?’ she asked, twisting her fingers agitatedly. ‘Or if I hold off for a while?’

Mickey knew lies wouldn’t comfort Mandy, especially not in this subject. ‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly. ‘I hope not.’

Mandy nodded. ‘Me too.’

 

* * *

 

 

To Mickey’s surprise, he was home before Ian woke up, which allowed him to change quickly into his pyjamas (aka, a tank top and his boxers) and slide back into bed. He wiggled as far back into Ian’s space as he dared, and smiled as Ian sleepily put his arm around him and nuzzled his face into Mickey’s neck.

‘Hey,’ Ian murmured, his voice hoarse with disuse. ‘How’d it go?’

‘She’s still having a crisis, but I gave her my opinion,’ Mickey replied. ‘Thought you were asleep.’

‘Mm, nah. Gotta hold something to sleep. I have a teddy bear at home,’ Ian gave a small yawn, tickling the hairs on the back of Mickey’s neck. ‘You’re better though, I think.’

‘You sleep with a teddy?’ Mickey asked incredulously.

‘Mm, sometimes,’ Ian nodded slightly. ‘My brother might say I’m a bit of a slut, so I’m usually spooning someone.’

‘Really?’

‘No, I’m a precious, untouched flower. You have deflowered me this evening, and I don’t even know your last name.’

‘Milkovich.’

‘Huh?’

‘Mickey Milkovich.’

‘Oh. Ian Gallagher.’

‘Ian Gallagher,’ Mickey repeated. ‘Sorry I deflowered you, princess.’

Ian giggled and sighed into Mickey’s neck as his voice got drowsy again. ‘Nah, ain’t been a flowery princess for a while. You’re definitely not the first to get their cactus all over my flower.’

‘What?’

‘Cactus butt on precious flower dick,’ Ian explained sleepily. ‘I’m gonna sleep now.’

‘Probably a good idea,’ Mickey agreed, smiling and allowing himself to relax into Ian’s arms and fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

_January 18 th, 2015, Chicago, Illinois._

‘Have you done it yet?’ Mandy asked quietly, bumping her shoulder into her brother’s, as they sat watching a movie in his apartment.

‘Done what?’ Mickey asked, shoving popcorn into his mouth, thoroughly engrossed in their movie.

‘Told him you love him.’

‘Who, Ian?’

‘Who else?’

Mickey looked askance at his sister, before he shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV. ‘I don’t.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘No, it’s been like six weeks, Jesus.’

‘I knew I loved Svieta after six weeks,’ Mandy replied softly. ‘Then the dancing vision told me everything I needed to know.’

Mickey hummed thoughtfully. ‘So have you done the life/love thing yet?’

‘I don’t even know what to _do_. This shitty curse didn’t come with fucking instructions.’

‘I know, chill.’ Mickey rolled his eyes and reached forward to get the remote, because he figured he wasn’t going to be able to watch the fucking movie, now Mandy had decided she wanted to have a heart to heart. ‘Try just telling her the truth or something. See what she says.’

‘What if I say I love her and want to spend the rest of my immortal life with her, and I actually have the power to _do_ that, and she says no?’

‘I don’t think the person you’re essentially fated to be with is going to turn you down, Mands.’

‘Yeah, good point,’ Mandy agreed. ‘So you think I should just go up to Svieta, and say, “Oh, by the way, I might’ve accidentally caused the death a gypsy girl in the mid-seventeenth century, so now I’m an immortal looking for love and I choose _you_!” then throw a Poké ball at her or something?’

Mickey grimaced. ‘Maybe not the Poké ball? Also probably avoid bringing up the accidental murder.’

‘Well how the fuck else am I supposed to explain it?’

‘Just say a fuckin’ gypsy curse. Don’t say you killed a girl, Jesus fuckin’ Christ.’

Mandy flailed and screeched quietly in frustration. ‘This is fucking hard, Mick.’

‘Well, it’s definitely not supposed to be a fuckin’ picnic.’

‘You’re mocking me now,’ Mandy said, narrowing her eyes at her brother, and jabbing him hard in the arm. ‘But when you’re having a fucking crisis over how to break this shit to Ian? I’ll be laughing at you.’

‘Bitch.’

‘Jerk.’

 

* * *

 

 

_February 14 th, 2015, Chicago, Illinois._

‘So I think it’s about time you told me how old you are,’ Ian said, toying with the tab of his beer can. ‘And don’t skirt around it this time.’

‘I’m twenty two,’ Mickey said, yawning and lying down on the floor, stretched out beside the couch Ian had taken over.

‘That’s a straight out lie,’ Ian said. ‘Well, not _straight_.’

‘God, are you one of those people who will make that damn joke at every possible time?’

‘Yep.’

‘How drunk are you?’

Ian giggled. ‘Not really, I pinky promise.’

‘So…’ Mickey looked up at Ian, who was peering down over the edge of the cushions. ‘Very?’

Ian grinned and winked. ‘Maybe.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Note to self, don’t give a teenager alcohol.’

‘I’ve been drinking this shit since I was like, thirteen, so it’s not like it’s my first time.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Mm, I’m just a bit more of a lightweight now,’ Ian said, putting the can down on the floor above Mickey and rolling onto his back on the couch, suddenly sombre.

‘How are you _more_ of a lightweight?’

Ian waved his hand dismissively and rolled back to the side of the couch to grin down at Mickey, as his previous spirit came back in force. ‘We’re not talking about me right now. Tell me how old you are.’

Mickey groaned. ‘Twenty two, fuck.’

‘No, you’re not. You’ve looked the same since the first time I met you,’ Ian leaned down, nearly losing his balance and falling on top of Mickey. ‘What’s your secret?’ he asked conspiratorially.

 _Jesus._ Ian didn’t seem to be letting it go, so Mickey decided to fuck with him a little. (Even though it was the truth, but Ian wouldn’t know that. Hopefully.) ‘My secret?’

‘Your secret.’

‘Immortality.’

Ian blinked, then burst into hysterical laughter. ‘You’re so funny!’

‘Don’t I fucking know it,’ Mickey muttered. _My life has become a fucking joke._

 

* * *

 

 

_March 13 th, 2015, Chicago, Illinois._

It wasn’t the first time Ian had brought it up, and honestly, there were only so many times Mickey could say no.

‘I want to meet your sister,’ Ian said, looking down at Mickey under him.

‘Are you fucking joking?’ Mickey panted, gasping as Ian pulled almost all the way out, and slammed back in.

‘I’m dead serious.’

‘You’re balls fucking deep in me and you’re talking about my sister?!’

‘Yes,’ Ian replied, far too calmly to be normal.

‘Fucking _Christ_ ,’ Mickey moaned. ‘Fine!’

‘Fine? I can meet her?’

‘Yes! Jesus!’

Ian smiled and leaned down to kiss Mickey deeply. ‘Thank you.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘You fucking _suck_ ,’ Mickey said, later that night, after they had moved from Mickey’s bed and to the living room to order a pizza and watch shitty TV for a while, as they regained their strength for the next round.

‘Why do I suck?’ Ian asked innocently, leaning over to pick a piece of pepperoni off Mickey’s slice.

‘You got me to agree to you meeting my sister,’ Mickey grumped, frowning at his pepperoni-less pizza. ‘You can’t use your dick powers to make me say stuff I can’t take back.’

‘Oh, can’t I?’ Ian said, sounding interested. ‘I wonder what else I can get you to say and regret.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘Depends what you had in mind.’

Ian laughed quietly. ‘Three little words that start with “I”, “L”, “Y”?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Not a chance.’

‘You won’t say “I like you?” That’s kinda rude.’

‘You want me to say “I like you”?’ Mickey snorted. ‘You’re pretty much living at my apartment and you think I don’t like you?’

‘No, I know you do, I just wanna hear you say it.’

‘Fine, I like you,’ Mickey took a bite of his pizza and chewed it as he watched Ian light up with a smile. ‘Not something I regret saying, for your information.’

‘Hmm…’ Ian tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘What about four words? “M”, “I”, “W”, “M”?’

‘Miwm?’

‘No, _“move in with me”_ ,’ Ian said.

‘Move in with you? Don’t enough people live in your house to be considered a fucking principality already?’

‘No, _I_ move in with _you_. Here. You said I pretty much live here already…’ Ian looked unsure and blushed as he turned his attention to his pizza, toying with the crust. ‘Never mind, forget I said anything.’

Mickey sighed as he considered it. He did really like Ian. He’d never really had a fuck buddy (boyfriend? Mickey didn’t even know what the fuck they _were_ ) live with him. First for everything, though, right? ‘I don’t think I would regret that either,’ Mickey said slowly.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, I mean…’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Why not?’

Ian grinned and kissed Mickey’s collarbone, looking up to him from where he had rested his head on Mickey’s chest. ‘Can I say something else now?’

‘Is it something else I’m supposed to regret?’

‘I hope not.’

Mickey had a feeling he knew what was coming. ‘I can’t say it back, you know.’

‘I know,’ Ian murmured. ‘Just thought you should know that I do. Love you.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I know.’

‘I love you, Mickey Milkovich,’ Ian whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

_April 9 th, 2015, Chicago, Illinois._

‘You love him, don’t you?’ Mandy asked leaning against Mickey’s kitchen bench, sipping casually on her beer.

Mickey looked up from the vegetables he was cutting and held up the knife he was using. ‘You lookin’ to get stabbed right now?’

‘Just answer the question, dickwad.’

‘No.’

‘No, you won’t answer the question? Or no, you don’t love him?’ Mandy pressed, pulling herself onto the bench to sit.

‘No, I won’t answer the question because I don’t know. I don’t think so,’ Mickey replied, dumping the potatoes in one pot and the onions in another. ‘You love Svieta, though, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Mandy nodded. ‘Why?’

‘How about instead of pissing me off by asking shit no one cares about, you tell me why you haven’t come clean to her yet?’ Mickey raised an eyebrow and started chopping up mushrooms and the (partially wilted) fresh herbs he had picked up.

‘It’s not really the sort of thing you can just throw out there, Mick,’ Mandy said exasperatedly. ‘You gotta… fuck. You gotta plan it.’

‘It’s been four months, Mands,’ Mickey pointed out. ‘That’s enough fuckin’ time to plan how to slip “Oh, I’m an immortal looking for love and you’re it, so sign along the dotted line and we’re good to go!” into conversation.’

‘Hah, yeah, okay. And I’ll just tack, “Oh, and could you check on the chicken in the oven?” onto the end.’

‘Good plan, cover up the serious stuff with an immediate task,’ Mickey grinned and put his mushrooms in with the onions, shuffling it around in the pan.

‘God, you’re a dick,’ Mandy moaned, swatting at him and kicking her feet out. ‘You’re meant to _help_ me.’

‘Nah, pass the carrots?’

Mandy exhaled deeply and levelly through her nose and passed her brother the required vegetables. ‘Fine, fuck you. But when you’re going through this crisis with Ian, _I’ll_ be the one laughing at _you_.’

 

* * *

 

 

_October 31 st, 2015, Chicago, Illinois._

‘You’re fucking weird,’ Mickey grunted, rolling his hips down into Ian’s.

‘You’re right,’ Ian grinned, gripping Mickey’s thighs hard enough to leave bruises. ‘I _am_ fucking weird. You’re weird, and I’m fucking you.’

‘God, you’re not funny,’ Mickey said, throwing his head back and concentrating on his movements, turning Ian into a writhing heap beneath him so he’d stop talking. ‘It was your idea to fuck in Halloween costumes.’

‘Hardly costumes, _Zorro_ ,’ Ian said, his voice strained, but still not lost enough to miss the underlying jab at Mickey’s hat and mask.

‘Fuck you, _Captain America_ ,’ Mickey replied, raking his nails through the carefully detailed insignia painted on Ian’s chest. ‘You’re fucking _lame_.’

‘You’re right, you are –’

‘Would you _stop_?’

Ian grinned and surged up, pulling Mickey into a hard kiss, and swiftly rolling them over so Mickey was on his back. ‘Only if you make me.’

‘You say that like it’s punishment,’ Mickey grinned back, taking the hint and pulling Ian back down to make him put his mouth to actual good use.

 

* * *

 

 

_June 1 st, 2016, Chicago, Illinois._

Quiet moments like this were Mickey’s favourite, despite how much he would protest that he enjoyed the sex more. He would always cherish these moments when Ian wasn’t quite awake yet, and Mickey was given the opportunity to study his lover.

The way his eyelashes crushed his cheeks as his eyes flickered in his sleep. How there was a group of freckles across his left shoulder blade that was a miniaturised version of the Orion constellation. That he occasionally made little mewling noises in his sleep, his fingers reaching idly towards Mickey.

How he mumbled things sometimes – _“Your hair is too big, Lip,”_ and _“That’s not my mouse.”_

One of his personal favourites was, _“Mickey is my boo!”_ but that was only just overshadowed by, _“I love him more than bagels.”_

 

* * *

 

 

_May 17 th, 2017, Chicago, Illinois._

Mickey was woken up by something not entirely unexpected. Ian had crawled down under the sheets and taken Mickey into his mouth, which he usually did when he wanted something. (Even though Mickey would deny him pretty much nothing, Ian hadn’t really caught onto that yet, so Mickey was happy to enjoy the morning blowjob his boyfriend (there was really no denying it anymore) gave him.) (Unless Ian knew that, and was just doing it because he liked it. Mickey wouldn’t put it past him.)

Mickey hummed as he woke up properly, as Ian swirled his tongue in that way that had sparks lighting in Mickey’s veins. ‘Mornin’,’ he said, voice gravelly.

Ian popped up from under the sheets next to Mickey’s hip, his hair mussed, and a grin on his face. ‘Morning!’ he said, before ducking back under.

‘What do you want?’ Mickey asked, folding his hands under his head and sighing contently.

‘Nothing,’ Ian replied, his voice muffled by the bedding. ‘Gonna let me finish blowing you, or you want a full-fledged conversation right now?’

‘Nah, you carry on,’ Mickey laughed lightly, and moaned as Ian took him back in his mouth and started bobbing his head.

It didn’t take long for Mickey to come, and Ian emerged back up beside him on the pillows. ‘How was that?’

Mickey lolled his head to the side and smiled up at Ian. ‘Definitely one of the better perks of you living here.’

‘Uh huh.’ Ian quirked an eyebrow and propped himself up on his elbow. ‘So, I wanna go for a picnic or something.’

‘A picnic?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian nodded. ‘You know, eating food outside? Sometimes there’s blankets and handmade daisy crowns involved.’

‘I’m not going for a picnic,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes at Ian’s immediate pout. ‘But I’m not saying we can’t get a pizza or something and _then_ eat it at a park.’

‘That counts as a picnic.’

‘There will not be a blanket involved, so it counts as a spontaneous, planned pizza in a park.’

‘Invite Mandy?’ Ian asked hopefully. He had been introduced to her only a few months prior, and they had hit it off immediately. (Part of Mickey realised that would probably be a good thing if he ended up being the one Mickey wanted to love forever.)

‘No. No Mandy. She’ll be doing something with her girlfriend today. Is it nice outside or something?’

‘Yeah, sun and all. Not a cloud in the sky.’

‘Huh. Time?’

‘A little after eight.’

‘Cool, so we got time for a round or two before pizza?’ Mickey asked, biting his lip and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Ian sighed dramatically. ‘Well, it’ll be a bit of a chore, but I think we can get there.’

 

* * *

 

 

 _Oh no. No, fuck, this can’t be happening._  

Mickey hadn’t bothered to put gel in his hair after he had showered this morning, so there were little strands of hair flying into his eyes as a light wind blew, and as he pushed them back, laughing at Ian’s lame joke, it occurred to him. That was when everything slowed down. Mickey’s started mind racing and his heart felt like it was trying to beat its way through his sternum, but his body hadn’t caught up apart from that.

He looked down, and everything was as it had been when he had seen this vision almost four hundred years ago.

He was in the light blue shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, crossed legs clad in dark jeans and tattooed hands, and the details he had been missing were filled.

His other hand was greasy from the half eaten pizza in the box on the grass between him and Ian. _Ian._ Ian was his person. _The_ person. Mickey’s one love. _Oh God. Oh no. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Maybe not fuck. Maybe not “oh no”, because maybe Mickey did love Ian. Did he?

He did. More than he could tell.

‘Shit,’ Mickey murmured, interrupting whatever Ian had been in the midst of saying.

‘Mick?’ Ian asked, picking idly at the cheese on a slice of untouched pizza. ‘You okay?’

Mickey blinked and looked around. No one seemed to have noticed the major life event that had just happened. ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Mickey said, frowning and coughing awkwardly. ‘What were you saying?’

‘I was saying that today has been pretty perfect so far,’ Ian shifted his gaze away from Mickey and fully onto the food. ‘Not much could improve on it.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey agreed, somewhat distractedly, as he tried desperately to keep his voice calm and slow his heart. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘Only one thing would… y’know. Improve it,’ Ian continued. ‘I mean, I know we haven’t been together long, but I feel like we’ve been together forever, so it’s okay.’

‘Right, yeah.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Sure.’

Ian bit his lip and huffed as he dropped the pizza, looking for something to wipe the grease off his hands with. He settled for wiping them on his jeans, and turned back to Mickey. ‘So, I guess… I kinda wanna keep on like this.’

‘Wait,’ Mickey frowned as he caught on to where Ian was going with that, and stood up. ‘I think I need to go.’

‘Mickey, I’m trying to say something here,’ Ian said, standing up as well and putting his hands on Mickey’s shoulders to stop him from going anywhere. ‘Can I finish?’

‘No, I need to go.’ _I can’t deal with any of this right now._

‘Jesus, let me finish proposing!’

‘I can’t!’ Mickey replied, grabbing one of Ian’s wrists and twisting it, escaping from between Ian’s arms, and breaking out into a sprint as he headed for his sister’s. Fuck, he was starting to regret being a dick to her about Svetlana.

 

* * *

 

 

Mandy hadn’t said anything yet. She was watching Mickey pace across her living room floor, much like he had done when she was in the same position. Every now and then she looked like she wanted to make a snarky comment, but she knew from experience that it would do nothing to help the situation.

‘Mandy,’ Mickey said again, pausing in front of her. ‘What the fuck?’

‘“What the fuck?” was my first thought as well,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s make a deal, okay?’

‘A deal? Of what?’

‘You tell Ian tonight, and I’ll do the same with Svieta, okay?’

Mickey shook his head. ‘That’s not fucking fair. You’ve had _months_ to think of what to say to her, but I’ve had not even three hours!’

Mandy shrugged and leaned back into the couch. ‘Yeah, it’s tough, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it fucking is!’ Mickey cried. ‘He was trying to propose, you know.’

‘You’ve mentioned.’

‘I was having a fucking moment that meant we’re meant to be together, and he was trying to fucking _propose_.’

‘Yep,’ Mandy agreed. They had been over this several times, and she was pretty sure it would only piss Mickey off if she pointed that out. ‘Have you even said you love him yet?’

Mickey sighed and dropped onto the couch beside her. ‘I’m shitty with feelings, Mands.’

‘Has _he_ said it?’

‘He was proposing. Of course he has.’

‘Why haven’t you?’

Mickey frowned and tucked his chin into his chest. ‘Pretty sure he knows.’

‘So you _do_ love him?’

‘I guess.’

‘Would you mind spending the rest of your life with him?’

‘No, I mean…’ Mickey huffed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘No.’

‘So what’s your problem then?’ Mandy asked. ‘Buck up, kiddo. Go talk to your boyfriend.’

‘Go talk to your girlfriend,’ Mickey replied, reluctantly standing from the couch and heading to the door. ‘If I’m doing this, so are you.’

‘Good, it was my idea, after all.’

‘Then do it.’

‘I will.’

‘Good.’

‘Fine.’

‘Fine.’

 

* * *

 

 

_April 17 th, 2017, Chicago, Illinois – One month earlier._

Ian felt kinda like he was drifting. He didn’t really know what he was drifting _on_ , but he knew what fuelled. He was ridiculously, hopelessly in love. He sighed again and turned around in his chair to face his sister at the dining table, as she pored over newspapers for a better job – one that might be able to actually keep the Gallagher household afloat. Despite the fact that Ian had now moved out, they were still struggling.

‘We want to meet him, you know,’ Fiona said, looking up briefly, to make sure Ian had heard her. ‘We’re starting to think you’re imagining him.’

‘Oh, trust me. He’s very real,’ Ian said. ‘He’s amazing and wonderful and… well. He’s pretty grumpy all the time, actually.’

‘And you’ve moved in with him.’

‘Yup.’

‘You’ve never shown us a photo or anything. He’s nowhere to be found on social media, and according to Debs, if they’re not on Facebook or Twitter, they’re probably not real.’

‘Well, he is,’ Ian said definitively. ‘His name is Mickey Milkovich and I love him and he’s real, okay?’

‘Uh huh. Bring him around for dinner and then we’ll talk.’

‘We’re talking now.’

‘And I’m telling you to bring him over.’ Fiona narrowed her eyes and put down the pen she had been using to circle advertisements. ‘He’s not just some persona you’ve invented to mask a really horrible old guy, right?’

‘Is that what you think of me?’ Ian scoffed and rolled his eyes. ‘Well, you’re wrong. He’s real, he’s _young_ , and he’s mine.’

Fiona shrugged and went back to her newspaper. ‘Okay, Ian. All I’m saying is be careful.’

 

* * *

 

 

_May 17 th, 2017, Chicago, Illinois._

Ian was worried he may have put his foot in his mouth. Like, really fucking jammed it in there, and it was now being dissolved by stomach acid. _Fuck_. He had done it too soon. Mickey had run off, and now Ian was here, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do.

Was he supposed to leave the apartment? Jesus, Fiona couldn’t afford to take him back now.

As Ian was having his little crisis, the front door opened, revealing Mickey behind it.

‘Oh, thank God,’ Ian said, as a rush of relief swept over him. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d come back.’

‘Neither was I,’ Mickey said honestly, shutting the door and approaching Ian. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Was it about what I said? We can pretend it never happened.’

Mickey smiled sadly and shook his head. ‘No, we can’t. It would crush you, and we both know it.’

Ian sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he nodded mutely, because Mickey was totally right. It felt slightly like his heart was being shredded as he even suggested it.

‘Sit down,’ Mickey said, nodding to the couch. ‘We need beer for this conversation.’

Ian sat quietly, hands clasped tightly between his knees, as he waited for Mickey to come back with their drinks. He took the bottle Mickey offered him, and still said nothing, hoping Mickey would be the first to break the silence.

‘So, there’s pretty much no way to ease into this,’ Mickey said quietly, sitting opposite Ian on the table in front of the couch. ‘I’m just gonna tell you a story, okay?’

‘A story?’ Ian asked incredulously. ‘How the fuck is that relevant?’

‘You’ll fuckin’ see, so be quiet,’ Mickey snapped. He sighed and shook his head, before looking apologetically to Ian. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’

Mickey nodded, and exhaled deeply, toying with the neck of his beer bottle. ‘I used to know a girl,’ he started quietly. ‘Her name was Marya, and I guess you could say we were good friends. We were from two different places, and we had different values and views, and part of me wanted to forget mine and take up hers.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She wanted to get married,’ Mickey said. ‘At the time, I was pretty deep in the closet, and… I don’t know. I didn’t want to, I suppose. Part of me thought it would be a good idea to get rid of the suspicion that had floated around me my whole life, but for the most part, I just… I couldn’t do it to her, y’know? She was too good.’

Ian raised an eyebrow in question. ‘You were gonna get married to a _girl_?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Everything was arranged. My father was overjoyed, because I was well past the marrying age, and he was starting to think I was going to be a priest or something.’

‘“The marrying age?”’

‘Yeah, seventeen, eighteen,’ Mickey waved his hand dismissively and continued. ‘But it came to the night before the wedding, and it was like all of me was rebelling. I couldn’t do it to her, so I went to see her and call it off.’

‘What happened?’

‘I’m getting there,’ Mickey said, having a gulp of his beer and taking a moment to find the words. ‘Basically, she said that if I didn’t marry her, she’d kill herself.’

‘…and you’re not married,’ Ian said, feeling like he just had to make sure this wasn’t Mickey breaking up with him because he was already attached.

 ‘No,’ Mickey agreed. ‘I’m not.’

‘So…’

Mickey cleared his throat loudly, before saying, ‘She got some hemlock.’

‘That’s a poison, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Shit,’ Ian breathed. ‘What happened after that?’

‘Her family blamed me and Mandy for her death, saying that it was my fault and Mands had helped me somehow, and ah…’ Mickey laughed nervously. ‘They kinda might’ve cursed us, actually.’

‘Cursed you? You believe in that?’

To Ian’s surprise, Mickey burst into laughter. ‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I do. Definitely.’

‘So when exactly did this happen? Couple years ago?’ Ian asked.

‘More than a couple.’

‘But you’re twenty two, and you said you were past being eighteen,’ Ian said in confusion.

‘Yes and yes,’ Mickey said, still amused by the whole thing. ‘I’ve said it a couple of times, but I don’t think you believed me.’

‘Huh?’

‘This all happened in… fuck. When was it? Mid-seventeenth century. 1640-something. One? 1641?’

Ian’s jaw dropped. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Completely. You keep asking me how I look so good for however old I am, and I’ve said before – immortality from a gypsy curse,’ Mickey finished, shrugging like it was nothing. ‘You’ve said so yourself, I haven’t changed since you were eight.’

Ian didn’t really know what to say, so he just brought his beer to his lips and drank half in one go. Mickey was right. This was a conversation they needed alcohol for.

‘You have questions, right?’ Mickey asked. ‘Go for it.’

‘First off,’ Ian said, putting the beer down and narrowing his eyes at Mickey. ‘I want it on the record how absurd this is.’

‘Noted.’

‘But why this fuck is this relevant?’

‘Oh,’ Mickey nodded to himself, as if remembering something. ‘I was told that I would find someone who I loved more than anything, and I could share my immortality with them, I guess. I had a vision in a fire all those years ago, and it showed me today. That’s why I freaked out.’

‘It wasn’t because I proposed?’ Ian asked, strangely relieved.

‘No. Well, yeah. Kinda. A little. Mostly the other thing though.’ Mickey smiled and put his beer down on the table. ‘Wow, feels good to have that off my chest.’

‘This is completely fucking ridiculous,’ Ian said, his mouth finally catching up with the tiny voice screaming at him in his mind that this was all fucking ludicrous, and maybe Mickey was crazy, not him. ‘How do I know you’re not lying? Is Mickey even your real name?’

‘No –’

‘Well, that’s just _great_!’ Ian cried, throwing his hands in the air.

‘It’s a nickname. Just like “Mandy” is,’ Mickey explained. ‘My name is Mikhailo, hers is Emanuela.’

‘This is crazy,’ Ian muttered, half to himself, half to Mickey. ‘Fucking crazy.’

‘I know that’s how it sounds, but –’

‘No. No “but”,’ Ian interrupted. ‘This isn’t good for me. You’ve pretty much said that four hundred years ago, you might’ve been the cause of someone dying, you got cursed with immortality by gypsies, and I’m your soulmate, who you can _give_ immortality to.’

Mickey nodded. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

Ian laughed in disbelief and stood up from the couch. ‘Okay, Mickey. Okay.’

‘Where are you going?’ Mickey asked, watching Ian go to their bedroom.

‘I’m leaving. Call me when you’ve sorted your shit and seen someone to talk to your problems about.’

‘You think I’m lying?’ Mickey called, getting up and following Ian, watching him shove his stuff into a duffel bag. ‘Why the fuck would I lie about this?’

‘I don’t know, Mickey. Why would you?’ Ian asked. ‘I used to come up with all this grandiose shit, and now I’m being medicated.’

‘Ian, I’m –’

‘You’re what? Not crazy? My family thinks I’m hallucinating you, Mick. I know what it feels like to be called crazy, to _be_ crazy. You don’t think you are, and I’m not. Not anymore.’ Ian zipped his bag closed and swung it over his shoulder. ‘This isn’t a good environment for me, Mick. If you wanna think you’re an immortal love machine or whatever the fuck you’re spouting as your life story, then you can do that. Just not with me.’

Ian scanned the room quickly to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, before he stormed past Mickey and headed towards home. Ian knew it was the right thing to do, but it still hurt like fuck to leave Mickey behind.

 

* * *

 

 

_May 18 th, 2017, Chicago, Illinois._

‘How did she take it?’ Mickey asked, as soon as Mandy sent a text back to say it was okay to call her.

‘Well, she believed me,’ Mandy said matter-of-factly. ‘So I suppose that’s a good start.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She’s going to take a couple days to think about it. She doesn’t know if she wants to die or not,’ Mandy sighed and Mickey could tell she had headed to her kitchen for some form of alcohol. ‘I know I shouldn’t be worried, but I am.’

‘Well, they never said the person we wanted would agree to it,’ Mickey said absently, stretching back along his couch. ‘They kinda just said the option would be there.’

‘Oh, fuck you,’ Mandy groaned. ‘Now I’m fucking worried. Just sit there and shut up, Jesus.’

‘And do what? Wallow in how fucked _my_ situation is?’

‘Yes. That is exactly what you should do.’

Mickey frowned as he noticed a dead lightbulb in the lamp in the corner of the room. The other two looked like they were heading in the same direction as well. (Much like his briefly active love life.) ‘How long am I supposed to wait?’

‘Depends if you think he’s gonna come back,’ Mandy said, her voice muffled. Maybe she had taken to comfort food instead of alcohol. ‘Do you?’

 _Fuck._ Honestly? No. ‘I don’t know, Mands.’

‘Then I guess you just gotta do what you think is right.’

‘How the fuck am I supposed to know what’s right?’

‘You don’t.’

 

* * *

 

 

_May 19 th, 2017, Chicago, Illinois._

Fiona hadn’t said anything since Ian had got back. She didn’t seem surprised when he came inside and trooped up the stairs towards his old bedroom. (No one had claimed the smaller, single bedroom yet, so Ian had a feeling Fiona had kept it empty for him. Carl had been wanting that room for months before Ian left. He didn’t know if he was supposed to be glad it was still his, or if he should be pissed that Fiona had had so little faith in his relationship with Mickey.)

Oh God, Mickey. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He loved him, and apparently Mickey returned his feelings, but this was too much. Immortality was not a thing that existed, and neither were curses. (Okay, curses had a bit more of a historical background, but still, Ian was pretty sure most of that was just coincidence.)

They were only together a few months, but _fuck_ , Mickey was it for Ian. He didn’t think he was too young to know what love was. How it was meant to feel, what it did to you. Ian felt like his entire world had been turned over the second they bumped into each other at the club.

Like it was fate.

Mickey had saved from getting hit by a car when he was eight, he had got him home after Monica abandoned him in Boystown when he was sixteen, and the rest was history, pretty much.

Ian spent a lot of time thinking about that. He didn’t believe that immortality was real, or curses had any real stock to them, but fate was something Ian had always thought was woven into his soul, into his being. Fate was the one exception that Ian believed in, and he was so sure it was what had brought him and Mickey together.

So if fate was real, and he believed it without a doubt, why couldn’t he do the same for Mickey’s story?

 

* * *

 

 

_May 21 st, 2017, Chicago, Illinois._

Ian had come to his conclusion.

Fuck it. Mickey was either crazy, or telling him things too crazy to be fake. Either way, Ian didn’t care now. He loved Mickey enough to accept it and work through his issues with him, because honestly, that was what Ian knew would end up happening. Mickey would fall back into reality, and Ian would be the one to catch him when he didn’t reach the stars.

He took his first shower since getting back to the Gallagher house and put on clean clothes, before he went downstairs to leave for Mickey’s.

Instead, he bumped into Fiona.

‘Going somewhere?’ she asked, tidying up the breakfast dishes that the kids had left behind on the table.

‘Yeah, I’m going to Mickey’s,’ Ian replied, straightening his hoodie and smiling towards his sister as he laced his shoes.

‘Oh? Did he apologise?’

‘Apologise for what?’

‘Well,’ Fiona leaned against the bench and raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You broke up, and you were pretty damn in love with the guy, so I don’t think it was your fault.’

‘It was, though.’ Ian sighed and sat up. ‘He told me something and I didn’t like it, so I left.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He said…’ Ian trailed off. _Fuck._ Fiona wouldn’t say anything useful. ‘What he said isn’t important.’

‘Mhmm,’ she nodded. ‘And you’re sure he’s real?’

‘Who?’

‘Mickey.’

Ian rolled his eyes and stood up. ‘Yeah, I’m sure he’s real.’

‘Mhmm,’ Fiona said again, watching him as he left. ‘Make sure you’re back for dinner!’

 

* * *

 

 

Out of all the people Mandy had expected to see at her door, at eleven a.m. on a weekday, Ian Gallagher was not one of them. Or maybe he was. After what had happened between him and Mickey, she knew he would look for answers somewhere.

‘Hi,’ she greeted. ‘What’s up?’

‘Is Mickey here?’ Ian asked, peeking around her to look inside her apartment. ‘He didn’t answer his door, and I think he changed the locks.’

 _Oh._ ‘He didn’t tell you. Okay,’ Mandy stood back from her door to let Ian in. ‘I think we need to talk.’

Ian nodded and went inside. He had been to Mandy’s apartment only once, but he hadn’t really been there for long. Or in the daytime.

It had seemed so dark then, but it looked like he was realising that was because there were so many windows, and so many curtains to cover them. There was an abundance of light, and the mostly white and cream coloured furnishings reflected it, making the space seem airy and larger than it was.

‘Wait here,’ Mandy said, nodding to her couch. ‘You want a drink?’

‘No, I’m okay,’ Ian said, looking around the room and studying the paintings that were hanging on the wall. One of them in particular caught his eye, and he stepped closer to study it.

The picture itself was small, the colours rich and dark, and the brushstrokes so small and precise. It took Ian longer than he’d like to admit to figure out who the people in the painting were. Their hair was dark and long, the man’s held back with ribbon, a fleck of which Ian could see behind his head, and the woman’s hanging neatly in waves down her back.

Their clothes looked simple, yet not inexpensive, and their similarities to a pair of siblings Ian had met recently was incredible.

‘1781,’ Mandy said quietly, having come down the hall, a large cardboard box in her hands. ‘We were in Paris then.’

‘So you’re sticking with the immortal, gypsy curse story, too, huh?’ Ian asked, turning to face her.

‘It’s not a story,’ Mandy replied, setting the box on the table in front of her couch. ‘It’s the truth.’

‘You don’t have to lie to help him.’

‘Why would we lie?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe you get some weird kick out of it?’ Ian suggested. ‘Tell me where he is, please. I need to talk to him.’

‘I don’t know where he is,’ Mandy said, beckoning him to the couch with a jerk of her head. ‘He didn’t tell me where he was going. He just left your box of things here.’

‘Is that why my key didn’t work? He moved out?’

‘Yeah,’ Mandy nodded. ‘My best guess would be that he went home.’

‘Where’s home?’ Ian asked, sitting beside her on the couch.

‘Ukraine. Kiev, specifically.’

‘I thought you guys were from Chicago?’

‘Nope, we’ve just been here the longest,’ Mandy smiled. ‘We like it here.’

‘How long have you been here?’ Ian asked, deciding to go along with the game.

‘Better part of forty years.’

 _Oh, yep._ ‘Uh huh.’

Mandy huffed in amusement. ‘You don’t believe it, and don’t try to say you do.’

‘You’re right,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I don’t. Let’s say I _did_ , though. How would you convince me you’re not lying?’

‘Like fuck if I know. What did Mickey tell you?’

‘Uhh… a girl poisoned herself because Mickey’s gay, then her family cursed you both.’

Mandy blinked. ‘Yeah, that’s nice and condensed. So, uh. What do you want me to tell you? Sounds like Mickey missed out some good parts.’

‘Well, the obvious question is how fucking old you are.’

Mandy laughed. ‘It would be. I’m 396, Mick’s 398.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ian muttered. ‘Where have you been? Fuck, screw that, how rich are you?’

‘Gold digger, huh?’ Mandy raised an eyebrow suspiciously. ‘Let’s just say that you don’t live for nearly 400 years without something to show for it. Mickey and I are very good at investing.’

‘Yeah, I imagine you’ve had a lot of fucking practice,’ Ian muttered.

‘You sound like you believe me now,’ Mandy noted, pushing her hair behind her ear. ‘Why didn’t you believe Mickey?’

‘It… God. I don’t even know if I believe you _now_ ,’ Ian sat backwards into the pillows of the couch. ‘He’s right though. I met him when I was eight, and he hasn’t changed.’

‘The car thing,’ Mandy nodded. ‘Right. For the record, I told him not to do that. He just said you should at least get a chance to live before you die.’

‘Would’ve been a bit of a downer to scrape bits of me off the road at a Fourth of July party as well.’

‘Probably,’ Mandy laughed, before she sighed and her tone turned serious. ‘Look, I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe us, but we’re not liars. Thieves, once upon a time, but not liars. Not about this, at least.’

‘Why did Mickey run away then?’

Mandy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. If he went home, though, it wasn’t a decision he made lightly. We haven’t been in Europe since Sarajevo.’

‘Sarajevo?’

‘We were there when Franz Ferdinand was shot,’ Mandy explained. ‘It was sort of the catalyst for us leaving Europe. We’ve been in America ever since.’

‘Oh.’ Ian didn’t know what else to say.

‘He’ll come back, though,’ Mandy said, smiling gently at him. ‘Mickey always comes back.’

Ian nodded. ‘I hope I’m still alive when he does.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘Ian came to see me today,’ Mandy said, settling her laptop comfortably in her lap. ‘He wants to know where you are.’

‘You didn’t tell him?’

‘Tell him what? That you went to find someone who could break the curse?’ Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t think he needs to know that.’

‘What the fuck do you _think_ is gonna happen?’ Mickey asked, his voice getting crackly from shitty internet reception.

‘Have you heard of Dorian Grey? All the years he stayed young caught up with him, and I honestly don’t want the same to happen to you. Or _me_.’

‘You think I’m making a mistake,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I thought you would.’

‘Well it’s not like I can say this shit to your face is it?’

‘You are.’

‘You can’t do shit to me through a laptop screen though, can you?’ Mandy grinned. ‘Just don’t fuck anything up, okay? I get the feeling Ian believes us now.’

Mickey shrugged and tried to come off as nonchalant as possible. ‘Just a little too late.’

‘You’re a fuckin’ dick,’ Mandy said. ‘Get off your ass and come back as soon as you can, okay? I’m not used to not having you here.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll be sure to do that. How’s it going with Svieta?’

The grin that had briefly disappeared from Mandy’s face came back in full force. ‘She said yes.’

‘She did?’

‘Yeah,’ Mandy nodded. ‘Got my forever gal pal.’

‘I’m happy for you, Mands,’ Mickey smiled. ‘I like her a lot. Wouldn’t be too bad to know her forever.’

‘Exactly my thoughts.’

‘A’ight, I’d love to sit and chat all day, but I have shit to do. I’ll check in soon.’

‘Yeah, okay. Don’t be too long.’

 

* * *

 

 

_July 9 th, 2017, Chicago, Illinois._

Ian had given up on trying to find Mickey now. He had no idea where he was, or if he would even return, and he had no way to find out, either. Mickey had deactivated his cell number, he had never given Ian his Skype details, and now the final shitty piece had fallen into place.

Mandy had left Chicago.

The only reason Ian knew _that_ , was because she sent him a text. Ian had read it what felt like thousands of times, so there was no point in reading it again, but he found himself doing so several times a day.

**_From: Mandy [23:47, 06/19/2015]  
_ ** _svieta and i are leaving chicago. i'm so sorry, ian. he loved you, and so did i._

Ian found himself murmuring the words quietly before he went to sleep, or as he sat reading, sometimes in the shower, or at dinner. His family thought he was crazy for it, and maybe he was, but it was the only thing he had to remind himself that they were real.

 

* * *

 

 

_August 3 rd, 2017, Los Angeles, California._

‘Have you heard from your brother?’ Svetlana asked, sliding her sunglasses up into her hair, as she joined Mandy in the hammock under the porch, out of the sun.

Mandy tucked her bookmark between the pages of the novel she was reading and shook her head. ‘Nothing for a couple months now.’

‘Are you worried?’

Mandy gave her a small smile and leaned into the fabric behind her. ‘I’m always worried.’

 

* * *

 

 

_December 29 th, 2017, Kiev, Ukraine._

Mickey didn’t know how many times he had been to this fucking place. He had been told already that it was useless, that the place had been abandoned for years. The crumbling bricks, covered in ivy like it was scaffolding, seemed to attest to that. Mickey had been coming here every day for weeks, and so far, no one had come.

He was starting to think that all his research had led him to a dead end. Fucking super.

Mickey sighed and looked around the decaying building, out the large hole in the roof and to the sky. ‘You know,’ he said loudly, fully aware of how stupid he sounded, talking to absolutely no one. ‘This entire situation is really fucked up, and I really don’t fuckin’ thank you for it.’

‘I know,’ someone replied softly.

Mickey recognised that voice. It had been centuries since he had heard it, but he would know it in a crowd of a hundred thousand others, the same as he would be able to place Ian’s heartbeat in a crowd. He turned slowly and tried to school his face into something calm and nonchalant. ‘Marya. I was starting to think I was wrong.’

‘That this is not where you last saw me?’ Marya asked, trailing her fingers along the wall as she walked towards him. ‘Or that I would not still be here?’

‘Either,’ Mickey crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I need your help.’

‘Why would I help you? I am dead because of you.’

‘No, you’re dead because of _you_ ,’ Mickey corrected. ‘Me and my sister didn’t force that shit down your throat, and you and I both fuckin’ know it.’

Marya’s eyes went cold and dark. ‘I am dead because of you,’ she repeated. ‘I may have taken the poison, but it was your actions that led me to it. I loved you, Mikhailo.’

‘Mickey.’

‘ _Mikhailo_.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever. Will you help me or not?’

‘With what?’ Marya asked, returning to the warm, kind eyed girl Mickey was familiar with. ‘I will do what I can.’

‘I want to get rid of the curse,’ Mickey said, approaching her carefully, knowing what a bad idea it was to fuck with spirits. ‘The person I… The _man_ I love wants nothing to do with me because he thinks I’m crazy.’

‘How do you know?’

‘How do I know what?’

‘That he wants nothing to do with you,’ Marya said, raising a delicate eyebrow at him.

‘He told me so,’ Mickey said. ‘Your mother never said anything about someone _accepting_ to be part of our curse.’

‘It is a gift to live with the one you love,’ Marya replied, stepping close to Mickey and smiling at him as she stroked his hair. ‘You’ve changed, Mikhailo.’

Marya’s hand on his hair felt something like wearing a hooded raincoat in a downpour. It was cold, yet had no definite feeling, and Mickey certainly wasn’t drenched. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘You have,’ Marya sighed, removing her hand. ‘You are cold, yet your heart glows brighter and beats stronger than before.’

‘Thanks for that cryptic update on my health,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Can I remove the curse or not?’

Marya smiled in that way Mickey remembered as her knowing something he didn’t. ‘It is a gift to be with the one you love.’

‘You’ve mentioned, but he doesn’t want to be with me, and I want this fucking thing _gone_ ,’ Mickey said, growing more and more frustrated by the second.

‘It cannot be removed, that is why it is a curse.’

‘Curses can be broken!’

‘Not one that is not a curse,’ Marya winked and turned, walking back the way she had come, fading with each step.

‘Jesus fuck, Marya!’ Mickey cried. ‘Speak clearly!’

As Marya disappeared entirely from sight, leaving Mickey alone in the crumbling ruin, her ghostly laugh echoed through the walls.

 

* * *

 

_April 30 th, 2018, San Francisco, California._

Of everything she had expected to see in her email inbox that morning, the one thing Mandy had not been expecting was a message from her brother.

****_From: Assface/Mick [mikhmilk19@gmail.com]_  
_[1 attachment]  
i'll be back in a few weeks. come pick me up from o’hare. my flight details are attached. see you soon._

‘Holy shit,’ Mandy whispered, looking over to Svetlana in their kitchen, as the latter made them both their morning coffee. ‘He’s coming back.’

‘Who?’

‘Mickey.’

‘Mickey’s back?’ Svetlana asked, raising an eyebrow incredulously. ‘How long for?’

‘I don’t know,’ Mandy said, still staring blankly at her laptop. ‘But he is.’

‘He wants us to collect him, yes?’

‘Yeah,’ Mandy nodded. ‘We’re going back to Chicago, Svieta.’

 

* * *

 

 

_September 4 th, 2018, Chicago, Illinois._

The last light was fading behind the trees, and it matched how Ian felt inside. Dim. Faintly burning. Dying. It had been only a year since Ian had last seen Mickey, but _fuck_ , it felt like a lifetime. That really wasn’t a comforting thought, either, because if Mickey wasn’t crazy, then Ian’s entire lifetime would only feel like a year to _him_.

Ian lit up another cigarette and took a long drag from it. He was starting to hope he had imagined Mickey, because God knew it hurt too much to be real.

 

* * *

 

 

_January 17 th, 2019, Chicago, Illinois._

Mickey didn’t know what brought him back here. Okay, maybe he did. He was currently scanning the floor of the club for why he was back there. So far, he had had no luck with finding Ian, and after however long it had been, Mickey wasn’t even sure he still worked here. He had no excuse for wasting another day here, so he downed the rest of his beer and left, squinting up at the sky as snow swirled down onto his head.

‘Fuck this,’ he muttered, ducking inside the first open shop he came across. He hadn’t realised it was the diner he and Ian had been to before their… thing. He didn’t really care much for that memory right now, he just wanted some fucking coffee and somewhere warm to sit until the snow had stopped for a while.

He picked up a menu, even though he was pretty sure it wouldn’t have changed since last time he was here, and started scanning the various offerings. Yeah, same shit as always.

‘Hi,’ someone, probably the waiter, began. ‘My name’s… Oh.’

Mickey looked up and into the hazel eyes he knew so well. ‘“Oh”? Changed your name since I saw you last, Gallagher?’

Ian blushed and looked down to his notepad. ‘Wasn’t expecting to see you here, Mick.’

‘Yeah, me neither,’ Mickey replied, studying Ian’s face carefully. God, the kid looked so much older than his age. His skin didn’t have the healthy glow Mickey was accustomed to seeing there, and even his hair seemed to have paled. The question came unbidden from Mickey’s lip. ‘How are you?’

Ian bit his lip and gave a small shrug. ‘I’m okay. You?’

‘I’m good,’ Mickey said awkwardly, flicking his eyes to his menu and wondering how it would come across if he decided to order something right now. ‘Uh… Coffee and blueberry pancakes?’

Ian’s face went blank and he bit his tongue in that way Mickey knew meant he was pissed off. _Whoops._ ‘Wow, Mickey. Haven’t seen you in a year and you don’t even tell me where you’ve been? Just order fucking pancakes and coffee?’

‘Well… you are working.’

Ian rolled his eyes and went towards the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a paper takeaway cup. ‘Here’s your coffee. That’ll be ten dollars.’

‘Ten? For coffee?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows and tentatively reaching for the cup. (He was pretty damn cold, after all.)

‘Yeah, three for the coffee, seven for my tip and insurance you’ll piss off,’ Ian spat.

‘Whoa, hey,’ Mickey said, putting his hands out in a vain attempt to placate Ian. ‘What have I done?’

‘You fucking _left_ ,’ Ian hissed. ‘I went back to see you and you were fucking gone, asshole. You didn’t even think to send me a text, like, “Oh, by the way, I’m leaving so see you never!” or anything. I was _crushed_.’

Mickey sighed and dropped his hand from the coffee cup, giving up on ever tasting the beautiful liquid inside. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t do anything while I was here.’

‘Where the fuck did you go?’

‘A lot of places. I went home, first,’ Mickey explained. ‘I wanted to get rid of the curse, and… I don’t know, Ian. I don’t know what you want me to say.’

‘I don’t give a _shit_ what you say. Not anymore. I spent _months_ wondering if I’d fucking imagined you and my family was right.’ Ian shook his head and stepped away from Mickey, clenching his hands tightly. ‘Just go. Please.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said softly. ‘Okay.’ He took out his wallet, pulled out a few notes, and dropped it on the table, taking the coffee in its stead. He wanted to say something to Ian, but the clenched eyes to match the clenched fists told him it would be a bad idea. ‘Okay,’ he repeated, standing and exiting the diner.

Ian opened his eyes once he heard the door ring open and slam shut. He looked to the money on the table, and wasn’t sure if he was happy or pissed that Mickey had left three ones and a hundred as the tip.

 

* * *

 

 

_January 18 th, 2019, Chicago, Illinois._

‘I think he hates me, Mands.’

‘He’s literally your soulmate, Mick,’ Mandy said, rolling her eyes at him through the laptop screen. ‘He won’t _hate_ you.’

‘No, he does,’ Mickey sighed. ‘Jesus, I fucked up. Didn’t I? I fucked up.’

‘You fucked up,’ Svetlana agreed, passing behind Mandy’s screen. ‘Big time.’

‘No, he _hasn’t_ ,’ Mandy said. ‘You might need to give him some time.’

‘He doesn’t want time, he wants me to fuck off!’

Mandy shrugged. ‘Then maybe you should.’

‘Fuck, you’re useless,’ Mickey groaned. ‘You’re giving me mixed messages here, Mandy.’

‘No, I’m not. Maybe you should leave. That would be giving him time, yeah?’

Mickey frowned. ‘Yeah.’

‘There you go then,’ Mandy said triumphantly. ‘Leave. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.’

 

* * *

 

 

_May 19 th, 2019, Chicago, Illinois._

‘Ian?’

‘Yeah?’ Ian replied, poking his head into the kitchen, where the chef, Zac, was prepping stuff for the day.

‘Some short dude came lookin’ for ya,’ Zac said, putting a pie into the oven. ‘Said to give you a message.’

 _Mickey._ ‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Yeah, said he was leavin’ again, and thought you should know this time.’

 _Unbelievable._ ‘Okay.’

‘He a friend of yours?’

‘Nope.’

 

* * *

 

 

_March 31 st, 2020, Anchorage, Alaska._

‘How much space is _too_ much space?’ Mickey asked, peering at his sister and her girlfriend on Skype.

‘Depends how much “space” and time you want to give him,’ Mandy replied.

‘Do you still love him?’ Svetlana added.

Mickey nodded mutely. ‘I don’t know how to handle this.’

‘Go find yourself or something,’ Mandy said, waving her hand dismissively. ‘Travel a bit more. Maybe go to South East Asia. Haven’t been there in a few years, right?’

‘Yeah, about fifty.’

‘So a few years?’

Mickey cracked half a smile. ‘Yeah, just a few.’

 

* * *

 

 

_August 15 th, 2020, Chicago, Illinois._

Ian was proud of himself. He had finally got his life together, and was putting his effort into studying, instead of brooding over someone he still wasn’t entirely convinced was real (despite someone else now having met said person).

Ian was really enjoying his course. He had decided to just take the next step and get qualified as a personal trainer, seeing as he spent enough time at the gym anyway, usually throwing his weight into punches aimed at a bag he imagined was a certain someone. Or maybe his feelings for a certain someone. _Just. Fuck. Off._ He punctuated each word in his mind with a blow to the bag in front of him.

‘Hey, hey, calm down,’ an unfamiliar voice said soothingly. ‘You’re gonna dislocate something.’

Ian turned around, fire in his eyes, to face the person who dare interrupt his _death to Mickey Milkovich_ punching session. ‘I know,’ he replied, before returning to his savage blows.

‘Well, maybe you should stop?’ the guy asked, putting his hand gently on Ian’s arm and halting him from continuing. ‘You could probably channel all this bad energy into something less self-debilitating.’

‘I figured this was less _“self-debilitating”_ than sitting alone in a dark room, chain smoking.’

The guy laughed, and stopped awkwardly once he realised Ian wasn’t joking. ‘Oh,’ he frowned. ‘Uh.’

‘Can I go back to this? Or did you have some more words of zen wisdom to share?’

‘I could probably find some,’ the guy smiled. ‘My name’s Mikey.’

Ian paused and turned incredulously to the man beside him. ‘I’m sorry, did you say “Mickey”?’

‘Mikey,’ the guy corrected. ‘My parents are kind of dicks and named me Michelangelo.’

Ian looked him up and down, taking in the surfer dude look this guy had going on – tanned, toned muscles and blond, windblown hair, pulled into a loose bun on the back of his head. ‘Oh.’

‘After the turtle, not the painter,’ Mikey smiled. ‘You are?’

‘Ian,’ Ian offered. ‘After the guy who sold my parents the PCP I was conceived on.’

Mikey nodded. ‘I think my mom was on PCP when she came up with my name, too.’

‘Cool,’ Ian said, at a loss for how to respond to that. ‘If you’re done, can I go back to punching?’

‘Sure,’ Mikey replied, leaning against the pillar next to the punching bag. ‘Who’re you imagining?’

‘Ex,’ Ian replied through gritted teeth.

‘Ah, always the way, huh?’ When Ian didn’t reply, Mikey cleared his throat and said, ‘Your chakras are probably all outta whack, dude. I wouldn’t mind helping you get them sorted.’

Ian laughed and stopped punching, rubbing his shoulder as he regarded Mikey curiously. ‘Did you seriously just use some metaphysical bullshit pick up line on me?’

‘Depends if it worked.’ Mikey raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. The movement reminded Ian of Mickey. ‘Did it?’

 _Mickey’s not coming back._ It broke his heart a little to think it, but Ian nodded and replied, ‘Yeah, it did.’

 

* * *

 

 

_February 14 th, 2022, Chicago, Illinois.                                                     _

It didn’t last with Mikey. Ian had been happy with him, sure, just not… convinced. Mikey wouldn’t be _the one_ for Ian, because he had already found him.

So just like Mickey had done with him, Ian ran out on Mikey, minutes after the question had been popped.

 

* * *

 

 

_June 19 th, 2023, Los Angeles, California._

‘You know what you’ve done, right?’ Mandy said, taking the beer Mickey returned from her kitchen with. ‘You’ve condemned him to a shitty existence.’

‘Why? Because I left?’

‘Yeah. I looked him up on the Facebook a couple of days ago,’ Mandy sipped her beer thoughtfully. ‘He’s not really on it very much, so it was easy to scrounge up some details for you.’

‘How is he? Is he okay?’ Mickey asked, trying to play it cool and failing. _Fuck, he loved him too much, still._

‘His boyfriend proposed to him.’

Mickey’s heart sank, and he looked down to his beer to pick at the label. ‘I’m happy for him.’

‘They’re not together anymore,’ Mandy continued. ‘He turned him down.’

Mickey tried not to seem too happy about that. ‘Too bad.’

‘It is.’

 

* * *

 

 

_October 27 th, 2023, Chicago, Illinois._

Ian didn’t like it when people knocked at his door, because the sound was annoying to him. He especially didn’t like it when people knocked at his door and he wasn’t expecting anyone. That made him suspicious as fuck, and mildly paranoid that someone was here to kill him. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised how unreasonable that was, but he wasn’t about to start reasoning with himself.)

He pulled open his door, and to say the least, was surprised by who was on the other side.

‘Hey,’ Mickey said, smiling softly.

Ian blinked and took an involuntary step back. ‘What do you want?’

‘Wanted to check in,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Can I come in?’

Ian nodded and opened the door wide enough for Mickey to slip through into his apartment. ‘It’s a bit of a mess…’ he said lamely, looking around the nearly pristine space.

Mickey raised an eyebrow at his words, and surveyed the main room quietly. ‘I wanted to say I’m sorry,’ he said, once he was met with Ian face to face again. ‘For leaving. Twice.’

‘It’s okay,’ Ian said, even though he felt like it was anything but. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good. Haven’t aged a day. You look old, Gallagher.’

‘Been through some shit,’ Ian muttered, collapsing backwards onto his couch. ‘So you’re still spouting that “I’m an immortal!” shit?’

Mickey shrugged and gestured at himself. ‘You tell me.’

He hadn’t changed. Still. _Fuck._ ‘Yeah, alright,’ Ian scratched his shoulder and yawned, looking up to Mickey. ‘I’m tired, man. Just tell me what you want so you can go and disappear for another ten years or something.’

‘I want you,’ Mickey said, skipping any preamble Ian expected. ‘You’re my person, and I want you to stop being pissed at me and believe that what I’m saying is true, so I can be with you, dumbass.’

Ian scoffed. ‘Gypsy curse, right?’

‘Right,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Immortal life and immortal love with my soulmate or whatever.’

‘Your soulmate?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Am I your soulmate?’ Ian asked. The thought was ridiculous, but _God_ , he wanted to hear it confirmed.

The ghost of a smile appeared on Mickey’s face as he nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘So I guess that means you’ll always love me, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Do you?’

‘Do I love you?’ Mickey asked, rolling his eyes. ‘Of course.’

Ian shut his eyes and tilted his head onto the back of his couch. He couldn’t identify the feelings in his gut at the moment. Happiness and pain were too intricately twined together when it came to Mickey. Part of him would always love him (God knew it was the dominating part of him), and part of him would always be hurt by his disappearance and his own unwillingness to accept Mickey’s story.

He heard Mickey walk slowly towards him, and opened his eyes as Mickey said softly, ‘Ian?’

‘Mickey,’ Ian sighed, standing and stepping close to the other man, pulling him to his chest and gently placing his lips on Mickey’s. ‘God, Mickey.’

‘Ian,’ Mickey sighed, running his hands down Ian’s chest and remembering the feel of the hard muscles bare beneath his hands. _How had he stayed away this long?_

Ian smiled into Mickey’s lips, and soon his small, calm kisses turned urgent and deeper. His hands went from framing Mickey’s face, down to his shoulders to push his heavy coat off. As it fell to the ground with a dull thump, and Ian pulled off Mickey’s t-shirt over his head, he had a feeling Mickey had come prepared for this exact scenario.

As Mickey toed off his boots and worked on yanking Ian’s tank top up at the same time, Ian quickly rid them of both their pants, and his thoughts were confirmed. Mickey had been going commando, and Ian couldn’t help but take a moment to laugh. ‘You’re pathetic,’ he grinned, reaching around to grab a handful of Mickey’s ass.

‘I wasn’t about to risk wearing boxers if you were just gonna take ‘em off anyway,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Fuck, I missed you so much.’

Ian nipped at Mickey’s shoulder. ‘Prove it.’

‘I would, but I have no idea where your bedroom is.’

‘Wow, way to kill the mood,’ Ian rolled his eyes and grabbed Mickey’s hand, tugging him towards his bedroom. He shoved the door open, and Mickey immediately made himself comfortable in the middle of his bed.

He watched Ian move quickly to the bedside table to grab out a bottle of lube and a condom, and got to work preparing himself as Ian opened the foil package with his teeth and suited up. ‘Get on me, Gallagher.’

‘Already?’ Ian didn’t remember him being so quick. Shit, maybe he had got old.

‘Like you said, I came prepared,’ Mickey grinned, scooting up the bed and opening his legs invitingly. ‘C’mon, Gallagher, I’m not getting any younger,’ Mickey paused thoughtfully as Ian crawled up the bed and pulled Mickey’s leg around his hip. ‘Not getting any older, either, though.’

‘God,’ Ian groaned. ‘Shut up for a minute and let me fuck you.’

Mickey laughed darkly, and quickly stopped, as his laughter turned to guttural moans. ‘Fuck, it’s been too long.’

‘Since what?’ Ian asked, sighing and burying his face in Mickey’s neck as he bottomed out. ‘Me?’

‘Sex.’

‘You haven’t had sex since me?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Mickey said, his voice hitching as Ian began to drag himself in and out of Mickey. ‘I didn’t have sex for nearly fifty years at one point. Four is nothing.’

‘It’s been six,’ Ian replied with a grunt.

‘No shit?’

‘No shit,’ Ian promised.

‘I’m better at this than I thought,’ Mickey muttered. He sighed and screwed his eyes shut as Ian’s muscle memory set in and he shifted slightly to target Mickey’s prostate. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘Shut up,’ Ian hissed, biting sharply into Mickey’s shoulder and digging his nails into his leg. He pounded into Mickey, drawing quiet moans and heavy breaths from his partner.

For someone who was quickly becoming a puddle beneath the capable hands of his occasional, Mickey was thinking quite clearly.

He was wondering why he had left Chicago the first time, when Ian had only needed a few days to think. He was wondering why he had taken Mandy’s stupid advice and left the second time. Fuck, he should’ve learnt his lesson, because now he was asking himself why it had taken this fucking long to come back and be with Ian. Even if it was just like this – Ian releasing all this pent up energy and anger as he channelled it into making love to Mickey.

Because that’s what this was.

This was six years of birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays not spent together. Six years of missed “ _I love you”_ s and small gestures of affection. Six years of memories they didn’t have and would never get back. This was six years of unexpressed love flooding out at once.

It fucking hurt, and at the same time, it felt better than anything ever had, or _would_. It was confirmation to Mickey that Ian still cared, and that he had never stopped caring, and even though he hadn’t said it in as many words, Ian was fucking glad Mickey was here. Ian would never fully forgive Mickey for running out on him the way he had, but this was a stepping stone to acceptance for his reasons.

‘Be mine,’ Mickey gasped, his eyes flying open and catching a glimpse of fiery hair and marble skin. ‘Oh God, be mine.’

‘I can’t,’ Ian replied, his voice wrecked. ‘I love you.’

Mickey hadn’t realised tears were running down his cheeks until it was too late to stop them, and it was all he could do to clutch at Ian’s back and hang on for dear life, as Ian’s movements lost their fluidity and stuttered to a halt, grazing Mickey’s prostate one last time, to send them over the edge together.

Mickey’s eyes were still clouded with the last of his tears, and with Ian’s head buried in his neck, he stroked his partner’s back gently and murmured, ‘I love you.’

Mickey had hoped for some sort of profound, earth shattering moment between the two of them, but that idea was quickly shot to Hell as Ian rolled off and pulled out, then said the dreaded words.

‘I think you should leave.’

Mickey couldn’t help himself – he thought they had been getting somewhere. ‘Why?’

‘Because I can’t give you what you want and it’ll hurt less if you don’t stick around long enough to be disappointed by it,’ Ian said. He rolled over onto his side away from Mickey, and despite that he was definitely not a small person, he managed to curl into a ball.

‘Ian, I don’t care. You’re my person, even if you don’t want to be with me forever, I’ll still take what I can get,’ Mickey said softly, placing his hand on Ian’s hip and rubbing his thumb in small, gentle circles.

‘No, you won’t. You’ll always have that hope and expectation, but I can’t do it, Mick,’ Ian said hoarsely. ‘Please just go. I can’t do it.’

‘Ian, I –’

‘Please.’

Mickey knew it would be useless to argue, so he got up, collected his clothes, and left without a word.

 

* * *

 

 

_December 2 nd, 2023, New Orleans, Louisiana. _

‘You and Svieta,’ Mickey started, pacing around Mandy’s kitchen awkwardly. ‘You’re like…’

‘Gay?’ Mandy offered. ‘Women? Fucking awesome? Yes to all.’

‘No, I mean…’ Mickey frowned in frustration as he looked for the right word. ‘You’re like… bonded, right? She’s your person?’

‘Bonded? My person?’ Mandy raised an eyebrow suspiciously. ‘If you mean she accepted the “gift” and is immortal now, then yeah.’

‘How did you do it? Like, how did it happen?’

A grin spread slowly across Mandy’s face as she set her glass down on the bench and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘You really wanna know?’

‘Well…’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Gotta know what I’ll have to do, right?’

‘If Ian ever –’

‘Don’t you fucking go there.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Mandy put her hands up in surrender. ‘It was Valentine’s Day a few years ago, and me and Svieta were in bed. She was doing this amazing thing with her –’

‘Fuck,’ Mickey interrupted. ‘ _Please_ do not finish that. Skip to it.’

‘Fine, whatever. Svieta was doing a thing, and it just…slipped out.’

‘What did?’

‘I just said _“Be mine”_ , and she said _“I’m yours”_ and that was it,’ Mandy said, sipping her drink casually. ‘That was kind of all it took.’

‘Holy shit,’ Mickey breathed.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Mickey said quickly. _He had said that to Ian… and Ian had said no._ ‘Don’t worry.’

 

* * *

 

 

_July 18 th, 2024, Chicago, Illinois._

Ian had hoped Mickey wouldn’t listen to him. He had hoped Mickey would come back, because this time, Ian wouldn’t let him go.

‘You okay?’ Fiona asked, passing him a plate of burger patties to take inside. ‘You’re a bit mopey again.’

‘Mickey came back a few months ago,’ Ian said, walking past her, up the stairs and into the house. ‘I don’t think he’ll be back again.’

‘Mickey was here?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What happened?’

Ian looked up to his sister as he put the plate on the bench and blushed. ‘I’m sure you can guess.’

Fiona rolled her eyes. ‘So was it the last hoorah kind of thing?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘Still can’t believe you were together for over two years and we never met him. You’re sure he’s real?’

She meant it as a joke, and Ian _knew_ she did, but God – he just couldn’t be fucked dealing with it. ‘Pretty fucking sure. I’m not crazy, Fiona, I have the ability to tell what’s real and what’s not.’

‘Ian, I’m –’

‘Don’t,’ he said, shaking his head at her. ‘Just fucking don’t, okay?’

Fiona sighed. _Maybe it would be better to just leave it._ ‘Can you start washing the lettuce off?’

Ian nodded, glad for the distraction. ‘I’ll do the lettuce.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘I don’t think he’s okay,’ Fiona said quietly, as she and Lip sat outside on the step by the back door. ‘And I don’t know how to help him.’

‘Me either, Fi,’ Lip replied, passing her his cigarette. ‘Just avoid the topic of that guy, and try not to notice when he’s sad.’

‘But if we don’t help him when he’s sad, won’t he just get worse?’

Lip sighed. ‘Fuck, Fi. I don’t know. Just don’t bring him up, okay? Ian doesn’t like to talk about it.’

‘A problem shared is –’

‘A problem shared is not your problem in the first place,’ Lip interrupted. ‘Let him sort it, okay?’

‘I just…’ Fiona trailed off and took a drag from the cigarette, dropping the burnt out end into the makeshift, beer can ash tray between them. ‘I worry, Lip. Don’t you worry?’

‘Of course, I do. I just know when to quit.’

 

* * *

 

 

_January 3 rd, 2025, Chicago, Illinois._

‘So when are you gonna go back to him?’ Mandy asked, setting out her plates of salads at the table.

Mickey flicked his eyes up from his book and back down again. _He did not want to have this conversation._ ‘No idea who you’re talking about.’

‘Come on, you’ve been farting around with it for years,’ Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘It’s getting old. Like him.’

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ He hoped this would be the last time they would talk about this, at least for a couple of decades. ‘I’m not doing anything. He told me he doesn’t want this, and I’m not going to trick or force him into it.’

‘But he’s your _soulmate_ ,’ Mandy insisted. ‘You can’t just let him die. He dies, so do you.’

‘I can’t –’

‘Not _literally_ , dumbass. Figuratively. You can ask Svieta as well, but you’re not the same as you were.’

‘Oh really,’ Mickey muttered, going back to his book. He’d had enough of this already.

Mandy didn’t seem to catch on. Or maybe she had and was ignoring it in favour of telling Mickey what she thought he needed to hear. ‘Before all this shit happened with us, you were full of life. You were a good person, and you put others before yourself. Never hurt a fly, and all that.’ Mandy sat beside her brother and pushed his book down to make him look at her. ‘With the curse, you… I don’t know. You hardened. You became a very self-involved dick, who would probably push down small children to use them as a bridge over a volcano. You were cruel, verging on heartless. Not always to _me_ , but I suppose you had an attachment to me…’ Mandy trailed off as she saw Mickey’s careful eyes turn into a cold glare. ‘Probably why we’re still in contact after all this time, huh?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever.’

‘But then you met Ian,’ Mandy said softly, watching her brother for any signs he might be about to rip her lungs out through her throat. ‘You turned more into the person I remembered. You were _nice_ again. You were happy.’

‘The fuck’re you tryna say here?’

‘I’m saying he makes you better. In the same ways Svieta does for me, he does for you. You can’t let him go, because you’ll lose yourself again, and you won’t find yourself back. You’ll sink down a deep hole, and fall so far into the ground that you can’t see the light.’

‘And?’

‘And you’ll wish you could die, but you can’t. Just like Marya’s mother said, you’ll love until you wish you could die,’ Mandy stood back up and made her way back to the kitchen. ‘It’ll consume you, Mickey. Ian will consume you. He already has. You’re on your way down the hole, but you still have footholds for the moment.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. Find him. You need him,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘Or you’re pretty much fucked.’

 

* * *

 

 

_January 4 th, 2025, Chicago, Illinois._

Mickey was pretty sure he was dreaming.

The only reason he thought that was because he was back in Kiev, and he hadn’t taken a plane recently. Maybe this was lucid dreaming though, because he was completely in control of himself right now.

He had been taken back to the ruins of his former home, and he was fucking pissed. This place made him angry. The memories of who had had known here, who he had been, what he had done and seen. _Fuck this._

So here he was. In the middle of a dream, staring up through that hole in his roof, screaming at the stars.

‘What have they ever done to hurt you?’ Marya’s soft voice asked, as she floated idly towards him, the tendrils of her long hair waving around her, like she was underwater and they were being moved by currents.

Mickey clenched his fists and glared at her. ‘They’re the only things as old as I am, so I figure they’re to blame as much as me.’

Marya smiled. ‘Oh, Mikhailo. Look at your fire.’

‘I don’t have time for this –’

‘Where else are you supposed to be?’ she asked, raising her fair eyebrows in question.

Mickey set his jaw and exhaled deeply. ‘The fuck do you want, Marya.’

‘Emanuela is right.’

That threw him for a spin. ‘What?’

‘Your sister is right,’ Marya repeated. ‘You must find him and go to him. You need him, or you risk losing yourself as you lose him.’

‘Marya, he doesn’t –’

‘He does not _now_ ,’ she explained calmly. ‘There will come a time when he will, and you need to be there for it.’

‘I don’t –’

‘You need to find him, Mikhailo. You may have all the time in the universe, but he does not. You need to find him before his time on this earth ends.’

‘He doesn’t want to see me,’ Mickey said, his anger dropping like a deflated balloon, quickly becoming replaced by frustration at Marya’s ever cryptic riddles. ‘He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want me.’

‘People change. Thoughts change,’ Marya said, smiling gently. ‘He will need you, Mikhailo, and you will need to be there for him.’

‘You keep saying that. What the fuck do you mean?’

‘I mean, he is in danger,’ Marya said. She leaned towards him with wide eyes, and whispered, ‘ _Run_.’

 

* * *

 

 

Mickey woke up in bed, and he was fucking glad that had only been a dream.

Then he remembered the subject of his dream. Marya. Her warning about Ian. _“He is in danger.”_

‘Fuck.’

 

* * *

 

 

_January 19 th, 2025, Chicago, Illinois._

Ian had made the decision a while ago to move away from Chicago. It was ridiculous, but he felt like he would never get a clean break from Mickey there. How long had it been? Jesus, Ian didn’t even know. He had started thinking he might’ve made a bit of a mistake by telling Mickey to go.

He just didn’t know if he wanted to live forever. He didn’t want to watch his friends and siblings die. His parents he didn’t care about, but his brothers and sisters were the world to him, and he didn’t know what he would do if he had to watch them fade from existence, one by one. Mickey would never have to experience his family dying, he didn’t understand it.

So while Ian wanted nothing but to be with Mickey right now, he knew it would be for the best if he just left Chicago and got a fresh start somewhere new.

 

* * *

 

 

_February 20 th, 2025, Chicago, Illinois._

‘He’s posted on Facebook,’ was the first thing Mandy said after she called up her brother.

‘What did he say?’ Mickey asked, looking for a pen and paper to write down anything important.

‘He’s moving from Chicago.’

Mickey waited a beat, hoping his sister would expand on that, before he asked, ‘Is that it?’

‘Well, yeah. He put up _“I’ve decided to leave Chicago. Time for a fresh start.”_ and that’s it.’

‘Doesn’t say where he’s going?’

‘Nope.’

Mickey sighed and dropped his pencil on the paper, using his now free hand to rub his eyes. ‘Okay. Keep me in the loop, yeah?’

‘Yeah, will do.’

‘How the fuck do you have access to his Facebook, anyway?’

‘Oh,’ he could hear Mandy grinning. ‘We’re friends.’

 

* * *

 

 

_February 22 nd, 2025, Chicago, Illinois._

‘Mick?’

‘Mands?’

‘He’s in New York.’

 

* * *

 

 

_May 7 th, 2025, New York City._

This was one of the best decisions Ian had made, barring those that had led him to Mickey. His apartment was small, but neat, and when he looked out his window, or walked around the city, he saw nothing to remind him of his former partner.

He had found a new job here before moving across the country, and while it was a fair distance away from his apartment, it was close enough for him to be happy to walk there. It cleared his head and reminded him he was alive. Ian liked feeling all the other people surging around him, like they were tiny blood cells pulsing through the veins of the city. They were all part of something so much bigger, and that was an idea Ian enjoyed.

He had always liked considering the bigger picture, and the ways he could influence the world to change the picture and make it better for everyone else. There was a time, however, when Ian didn’t really care about anyone else.

His thoughts and feelings, his every waking moment, had been for one person. And he had sent him away.

Ian might’ve gotten a little lost in his head this morning on his way to work, because he hadn’t remembered that there were certain places where he would need to consider other things in his little city circulatory system.

Ian was a tiny red blood cell, and there were carcinogens coming towards him.

Though carcinogens tended to attach themselves to red blood cells, not hit them and send them flying across the street.

 

* * *

 

 

_May 8 th, 2025, New York City._

**_Text From: Mandy [10:21, 05/07/2025]  
_ ** _mick u need to call me right now_

**_Text From: Mandy [11:03, 05/07/2025]  
_ ** _mick im not joking call me now_

**_Missed Call: Mandy [11:54, 05/07/2025]_ **

**_Text From: Mandy [14:57, 05/07/2025]  
_ ** _ASSFACE WHY ARE U IGNORING ME_

**_Missed Call: Mandy [17:44, 05/07/2025]_ **

**_Text From: Mandy [20:09, 05/07/2025]  
_ ** _okay maybe ur phone died or something but u need to call me as soon as u plug it in im fuckin serious_

Mickey frowned at his phone as the screen lit up with notifications from yesterday. He had left it in his carryon bag after his flight from Chicago a few days earlier, and honestly, he was wondering how the fuck he had managed to do that. He was the sort of person who felt like he was missing an appendage if he didn’t have his phone. Maybe not a major appendage like an arm or a leg. It was more like a finger or a toe – he could live without it, but it was… annoying. A little frustrated feeling when he couldn’t use it.

He decided that as it had already been over 24 hours since the first text, that he should probably call his sister. He pressed _call_ , and only had to wait through two repetitions of the dialling tone until his sister picked up.

 _‘Jesus fucking Christ, what took you so long?!’_ Mandy cried. _‘I was trying to get hold of you!’_

‘I figured,’ Mickey deadpanned. ‘Left my phone in my carryon and forgot about it.’

_‘Are you fucking serious?!’_

‘Yeah. What did you want?’

 _‘You need to get Facebook, fuck,’_ Mandy chastised. _‘Otherwise I wouldn’t need to keep telling you this shit.’_

‘Is it Ian?’ Mickey asked immediately. ‘Do you know where he is?’

 _‘Uh, yeah. That’s why I needed to talk to you.’_ Mandy’s tone was less than encouraging.

‘Is he okay?’

Mandy was quiet for a few moments. _‘Have you got a pen and paper?’_

‘Why do I need a pen and paper? I have a good memory.’

_‘You need directions.’_

‘I don’t need directions. I have a GPS.’

_‘They don’t have GPS where you’re going.’_

‘Which is where, exactly?’

_‘Ian’s room in the hospital.’_

 

* * *

 

 

_May 9 th, 2025, New York City._

Mickey had made the decision to wait until the next day to go see Ian. From what Mandy had read, it would’ve been pointless to go see Ian yesterday, because he was sedated at the time. Not in an induced coma, which gave Mickey a little bit of hope, because that meant that although he was pretty fucked up, he wasn’t _that_ fucked up.

Waiting did have its disadvantages, though. Ian’s family from Chicago had boarded a plane to be by their brother’s beside and offer their support, whatever that might entail.

And that meant Mickey was going to meet the family. After almost ten years. Shit.

 

* * *

 

 

Mickey had carefully written down Mandy’s directions to the hospital, and instructions on how to navigate to get up to Ian’s room. He was still in the ICU, but Mandy had seen that apparently they were going to bring him out of sedation sometime in the morning and see how he went, then possibly move him down to a ward, depending on how he responded.

As he stepped foot onto the floor with the ICU, turning down one corridor, then onto another, he knew exactly where Ian would be without needing to consult Mandy’s information or the numbers on the doors. There was a gathering of people in the chairs outside, all holding cups of coffee and speaking quietly as they pushed their messy hair from their pale, tired faces.

Mickey didn’t know if he was supposed to introduce himself – what the fuck was the protocol here? Was he supposed to act like he didn’t know who they were? Was he supposed to greet them by name? Offer his support? Buy them all fresh coffee?

Or was he supposed to keep his head down and slip past them into Ian’s room somehow?

The decision was made for him, as he started reading name tags outside the doors, and an eagle-eyed young woman zeroed in on him. ‘Who are you looking for?’ she asked, the chatter of her siblings shutting off as they turned to look at him also.

 _Shit._ ‘Uh, Ian Gallagher.’

She raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.

_‘My sister, Debbie,’ Ian said, whipping out his phone and going into his photos to show Mickey a photo. ‘She’s the only other person in my family to have red hair. It’s how I’m mostly convinced I’m not adopted,’ he laughed._

_‘Who’re the others in here?’ Mickey asked, pointing at the other people standing with Ian in front of a raised swimming pool, some with burned shoulders, all with huge grins on their faces._

_‘My oldest sister, Fiona,’ Ian pointed to a tall, brunette young woman, her arm looped over his shoulder. ‘She practically raised us. Strongest woman I know. My brother, Lip,’ a blonde, curly haired guy was zoomed in on. ‘He’s kind of an ass, but he’s smart and knows his way around a good scam. Carl,’ a shorter, dark haired kid. ‘Mostly a psychopath. Likes fire and killing things, but he’s sweeter than almost anyone.’_

_‘And who’s that kid?’ Mickey zoomed in on a little boy on the hip of Fiona._

_‘Liam, youngest brother. Cute and smart and could beat you at darts with his eyes closed.’_

‘You’re here for Ian?’ Debbie asked. ‘Who are you? We didn’t know he had friends here.’

‘Uh, I…’ Mickey sucked in a breath between his teeth, and exhaled his words all at once. ‘Mickey Milkovich. Nice to meet you. Been a while in the making.’

Debbie looked to her siblings to confirm he had just said that. ‘Mickey Milkovich?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘May I..?’

‘You don’t look old enough to be Mickey Milkovich,’ Fiona said suspiciously.

‘I get that a lot,’ Mickey sighed. ‘I need to talk to Ian.’

‘He’s still pretty out of it –’

‘I’m okay,’ Ian called groggily, his voice sounding scratchy and hoarse.

Ian’s siblings temporarily forgot about Mickey, who was apparently going through some sort of Benjamin Button shit according to them, and rushed to their brother’s bedside.

‘Mickey,’ Mickey heard quietly. ‘I want…’

Mickey dared sticking his head into Ian’s room, no idea what he was about to see. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected – no limbs suspended from hoists in plasters casts or anything, but there were a lot of bandages covering wounds on his hands and arms. From what Mandy had said, Ian’s torso had taken most of the impact, and there was a lot of internal bleeding – ribs broken, hairline fractures, dislocations… It was all going on.

‘Hey,’ Mickey said softly. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Mickey,’ Ian whispered, flicking his eyes to an empty glass, which Debbie quickly filled and stuck a straw in for him to sip through. ‘Just can’t get away from you, huh?’

Mickey cracked a small smile, and entered the room, surveying the damage to Ian’s body from a closer point. ‘I think you had a little accident, Gallagher.’

‘Seems like it.’ Ian looked around to his siblings, and apparently they all understood each other well enough to know that Ian wanted them to go for a while, without even needing to say anything. ‘Why’re you here?’

‘Came to find you,’ Mickey said, going to shut the door behind the Gallagher siblings, and taking the seat beside Ian’s bed. ‘Marya told me to find you.’

‘Marya?’

‘Once upon a fiancée,’ Mickey said, waving his hand dismissively.

‘She’s dead, right?’ Ian asked, squinting slightly as he adjusted to the brightness of the light behind Mickey’s head.

‘Yeah, she’s dead. Don’t mean she’s gone,’ Mickey muttered. ‘She told me you were in danger, and I would need to find you, because you would need me.’

‘I don’t,’ Ian said. _But I do_ want _you._

‘I’m hurt,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes. ‘I’d like to see you make me leave.’

‘I won’t do that.’

‘Exactly,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Look, I can save you from this, Ian. If you die, that’ll suck for everyone. I won’t stop loving you, and I can’t die, so I’m basically fucked.’

‘Selfish,’ Ian murmured.

‘Not selfish. I love you, pretty sure you still love _me_ or I would’ve been kicked out, and I can _save –_ ’

‘I don’t want to live forever,’ Ian said quietly. ‘My siblings will die and I’ll watch. You don’t get it. Yours is immortal.’

‘I do, actually,’ Mickey said with a sigh. ‘I do get it. I had four brothers.’

Ian looked confused for a moment, but Mickey supposed it was equally likely that a twinge of pain had caused Ian some discomfort. ‘Brothers?’

‘Yeah. Me and Mandy don’t talk about them, but they were there. They died about ten or fifteen years after we were cursed,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘I know what it’s like to lose your family, because I had one, and they’re all dead. You get used to being alone after a while, Ian. It’s not the end of everything, but you never forget them.’

‘So you think I should live forever with you and Mandy and leave my siblings?’

‘No, I think you should live forever with me and Mandy, love me forever because you will anyway, and cherish every single moment you have with your siblings,’ Mickey leaned forward slightly to hold Ian’s hand gently. ‘I’m not saying leave them. I’m saying, let me save you and let me love you.’

‘I thought about it for a long time,’ Ian said, tensing his fingers slightly around Mickey’s. ‘I thought I knew what I would say if you came back.’

‘And?’

‘And I don’t anymore.’

‘Ian, I –’

‘I need you to give me some time, Mick,’ Ian said, letting go of his hand and turning his head slowly, closing his eyes. ‘I’m tired. Go away for a few days.’

‘Ian, you’ve had this long already –’

‘Don’t. Just go for now.’

Mickey bit his lip and physically held in all his protestations. ‘Three days?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian agreed.

‘Okay,’ Mickey stood up and went for the door. As he opened it, he paused and turned back towards the bed. ‘Gallagher?’

‘Mm?’

‘Don’t die in the meantime.’

Ian gave Mickey a small thumbs up as he left. ‘I’ll try,’ he said sleepily. ‘I’ll try.’

 

* * *

 

 

_May 12 th, 2025, New York City._

Three days had simultaneously flown by, and been achingly long. Mickey had spent a lot of his time sitting in his hotel room, drinking, and praying that Ian would accept. Finally, that Ian would accept.

Maybe he _was_ being selfish, but then again, once upon a time, Ian had started to propose to him, and that usually entailed “’til death do us part”, so really… This was kind like that, just with no death to part them. Together forever was a cheesy, stupid notion that Mickey usually only thought about in relation to teenage romcoms with fake romance. He supposed that if he and Ian actually _could_ be together forever, then his thoughts about that might change.

And as fucking horrible as it sounded in his head, he had never felt like this before. Which was probably a good thing, or he would be stuck with some other asshole, and not Ian.

He might not even _be_ stuck with Ian, because the entire thing was based solely on Ian’s consent. Fuck, Mickey needed him to say yes.

 

* * *

 

 

Mickey was pretty sure he had never been as nervous as he was walking up to Ian’s hospital room. He had been moved to into a ward the day after Mickey had been to see him, and so far, was responding well to treatment. (Though, Mandy had told him that, so he wasn’t totally sure that was true, or if she was just saying it to make him feel better.)

One of Ian’s brothers – was this Lip? – was sitting outside Ian’s room, tapping quickly on his phone, and looked up as he heard Mickey approach. ‘How the fuck do you keep finding him?’

‘My sister’s friends with him on Facebook,’ Mickey replied with a shrug.

‘And you’re not?’

‘Don’t have Facebook,’ Mickey said, slipping into Ian’s room and closing the door behind himself. ‘Hey,’ he greeted, seeing Ian awake and alert, apparently watching some shitty thing on TV. ‘How’re you feeling?’

Ian sighed and tried to scoot backwards up his bed, wincing in pain as he did so. ‘Like I’ve been hit by a truck.’

‘Uh, well…’

‘It was a taxi, shut up,’ Ian grimaced and gave up trying to shift, before he pointedly flopped his head towards Mickey. ‘Three days up?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said, taking a seat beside Ian’s bed. ‘Have you decided?’

Ian sighed tiredly. ‘I don’t want to live forever, Mick.’

Mickey took in the implications of that, and nodded slowly, running his tongue along his teeth in thought. ‘Okay. I guess I’ll just –’

‘Wait,’ Ian interrupted. ‘But I do want to see more than just what I’ll have the opportunity to in one life. I want to see and do _everything_.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying yes, I think.’

‘You’re saying yes?’ Mickey asked, recoiling slightly in shock. ‘So you’ve gone from not believing me, to wanting to _join_ me?’

‘Saying that makes you sound like a vampire,’ Ian noted. ‘But yeah. I think it’s kinda hard to ignore hard evidence.’

‘What evidence?’

‘I did some digging. I found some photos from the Fourth of July thing you saved me from a car at, and you and Mandy are in the background of some of them,’ Ian explained. ‘No way in hell they could be fake.’

‘When did you find those?’

‘Just before you came to see me a few years ago, and we… y’know.’

‘You _knew_ and you said no?’ Mickey shook his head in disbelief. ‘Why’d you say no?’

‘Wanted to see if I could be okay without you,’ Ian mumbled. ‘Turns out I can’t.’

‘So…’

‘So I’m saying yes, because I find it very difficult to be without you.’

Mickey blinked. ‘You’re not fucking with me? You’re serious?’

‘Did you think I wasn’t?’ Ian raised an eyebrow in amusement.

‘Well, yeah. You’ve been against it for so long.’

‘You’ve only asked me once.’

‘Fair point,’ Mickey grinned.

‘So when do we do this?’ Ian asked, looking around for… something. Maybe ceremonial candles to appear or something.

‘Mandy said you’re doing good, so when you leave the hospital and you’re given the all clear, we’ll… We’ll do it.’

‘All clear for what? Life?’

‘No, for, uh…’ Mickey scratched the back of his neck. ‘Don’t make me say it.’

‘Say what?’ Ian asked innocently. _Fucker knew exactly what._

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Until you’re given the all clear to shove your dick in my ass, okay?’

‘That probably won’t be for a good while,’ a new voice said.

Mickey spun around and was faced with who must be Ian’s doctor. ‘Shit.’

The doctor pursed her lips at his language and whipped out Ian’s chart. ‘You’re doing very well, Mister Gallagher. How are you feeling?’

‘Not great, but okay,’ Ian said. ‘Sore.’

The doctor nodded. ‘As to be expected. Well, your ribs are only fractured, which shaves off a bit of recovery time, we’ve got the internal bleeding under control, so that’s nothing to worry about either, and overall, you’re in pretty good health from the knock you took.’

‘So when can I go home?’ Ian asked. ‘Couple of days?’

The doctor smiled. ‘We’re going to keep you in for a little bit longer than a couple of days, just in case any issues pop up from your injuries, but all going okay, you could be out in just over a week.’

‘A week?’ Mickey repeated. ‘That’s great!’

‘Mm, but no… _strenuous_ activity for at least four to five weeks. We’d recommend a minimum of six, and perhaps even seven, just to be safe.’

‘Okay, that’s fine,’ Ian nodded. ‘Thank you.’

The doctor slipped his chart back onto the end of the bed and sent Ian another smile before she left.

‘Fucking horrible timing,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Couldn’t you have warned me she was there?’

Ian unleashed a dazzling smile, one Mickey hadn’t seen in many years, and didn’t think Ian would be capable of his in current state. ‘Nah, as your… what am I now? Boyfriend? Husband?’

‘Boyfriend.’ _Definitely not husband. Yet._

‘Okay, as your _boyfriend_ , I’d like to think it’s my duty to embarrass you.’

‘I don’t think that’s right.’

‘It is now, and you’re stuck with me,’ Ian jerked his head for Mickey to come closer to him, leaning up slightly to peck Mickey’s lips gently. ‘So get used to it.’

Mickey couldn’t wait.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Text From: Smickerdoodle [13:10]  
_ ** _he said yes_

Mandy grinned at her phone when she got the text, understanding the context immediately. ‘Hey, Svieta?’

‘Yeah?’ Svetlana poked her head around from the kitchen and smiled towards Mandy, her hair swinging down behind her.

‘We’re not gonna have to put up with Mickey whining about Ian anymore.’

‘Did Ian say yes?’

‘He said yes,’ Mandy confirmed.

Svetlana skipped to Mandy and high fived her. ‘Finally.’

 

* * *

 

 

_May 23 rd, 2025, New York City._

‘Careful,’ Mickey said, looping his arm under Ian’s to help him out of the taxi.

‘Jesus, Mick,’ Ian grumbled. ‘My legs are fine. You don’t needa help me.’

‘Yeah, but I am,’ Mickey replied, leading Ian towards the steps of his apartment building, and leaning him against the handrail, as he ran back to the taxi to grab Ian’s bag out and pay the driver. ‘Let’s get you inside. Don’t want you catching pneumonia or anything.’

‘I’m not going to catch pneumonia, it’s fucking warm right now.’

‘Illness is sneaky,’ Mickey replied matter-of-factly. ‘In?’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ Ian rolled his eyes and walked up the steps by himself, wincing slightly as he did.

‘You okay?’ Mickey asked warily, looking Ian up and down, like he might explode into a fine red mist at any second.

‘Fine, just sore.’

‘Uh huh, don’t you go lying to me.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Good,’ Mickey said, wrapping his arm carefully around Ian’s waist. Ian grumbled slightly as he felt Mickey’s hand slide around, but it made them both feel a little better.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Ian?’ Mickey asked quietly, as they were lying in bed that night. ‘You awake?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian mumbled. ‘What d’you want?’

‘Feeling risky?’

‘Risky or frisky?’

Mickey grinned into the darkness, knowing Ian had caught on. ‘Both?’

‘Mm… Frisky, yeah. Risky, not really.’

‘What if I did all the work?’ Mickey offered. ‘Not too risky then, right?’

‘Slow frisky?’

‘Slow frisky.’

‘Mmkay,’ Ian nodded. ‘Take off m’pants. Shit’s in the drawer by m’head.’

‘Could you at least be awake for this?’ Mickey asked, rolling out of bed and pulling his shirt off over his head, before flicking Ian’s blankets back so he could tug his boxers off. (He was glad Ian had decided to just not wear a shirt to bed due to the effort it would take, because it was one less thing he would have to remove – Ian was one of those “naked entirely or no sex” people.)

‘You’re gonna cover m’legs, hmm?’

‘Yeah, I’ll cover your legs,’ Mickey said absently, rummaging around in the drawer Ian had mentioned to find lube and a condom. ‘You better not fall asleep on me.’

‘I won’t. Promise.’

‘Uh huh.’ Mickey crawled back on the bed and popped the cap on the lube to squirt some on his hand and reach behind himself to start getting prepped. ‘Stay awake.’

‘I _am_ ,’ Ian replied, and he did sound slightly more awake, even opening an eye to try and find Mickey in the darkness. ‘What you doing?’

‘Got a finger in my ass,’ Mickey said, casual as anything. ‘You?’

‘Willing a dick into existence.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Like, a hard on.’

‘Oh.’

‘I don’t really think I’ll have a good time trying to jerk it up, you know?’

‘Yeah, fair enough,’ Mickey replied, adding a second finger and quickly deciding he was good. ‘Alright, stop thinking porny thoughts,’ he said, jerking off Ian a little, making his dick harden rapidly. He tore open the condom wrapper and rolled it onto Ian’s dick, drizzling lube over it, and working it over the rest of Ian’s dick.

Mickey straddled Ian and grabbed his cock, directing it to his hole, and feeling the head bump against him. ‘You good?’

‘I’m good,’ Ian confirmed. ‘Blankets.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and pulled the blankets back over Ian’s bare legs. ‘Good,’ Mickey nodded, now everything was satisfactory, and slid down Ian’s cock until he was fully seated. ‘Ah, fuck,’ Mickey murmured, throwing his head back and moving slowly up and down Ian. ‘Why do we always leave it this long?’

‘Won’t be that long again,’ Ian pointed out. ‘I’m your soon-to-be immortal, love of your life, soulmate, whatever. Can’t get rid of me anymore.’

Mickey chuckled and brought one of his hands down to jerk himself off. ‘Good.’

Mickey started catching a little bit of speed, paying attention to every twitch and hitch in Ian’s breath, making sure it wasn’t in pain. So far, it hadn’t been, and Mickey hoped it wouldn’t start to be, either.

Ian had started making these little noises that Mickey knew were definitely not pained, and it drove him to go a bit harder. Ian had fisted his hands into the blankets and was biting his lip, and along with the tiny thrusts he had started doing, Mickey knew Ian was close.

Then again, so was he. ‘Fuck,’ Mickey breathed. ‘I love you.’

‘Love you,’ Ian replied, punctuating his words with a grunt.

‘Be mine, Ian. Fuck, be mine.’

‘I’m yours, Mick.’

A feeling of elation, unrelated to the act they were in the middle of, burst through Mickey’s body like sunlight through clouds. He writhed atop Ian, coming harder than he might’ve in his entire life, and noting somewhere in the back of his mind that Ian had also.

He wanted to flop down onto Ian’s chest, but God knew that wouldn’t be a good idea, so the rational, still functioning part of his brain made him keel over sideways, curling into Ian’s side, and pulling the blankets over them both.

 

* * *

 

 

_October 9 th, 2037, Chicago, Illinois._

‘We’re gonna be late for lunch!’ Ian called from the kitchen. ‘Get your sweet, _sweet_ booty over here, Milkovich!’

‘Fuck, calm down,’ Mickey grumbled, finishing fucking around with his hair as he stepped into the living area from the hall.

Ian was standing impatiently by the door, and honestly, Mickey still found it disconcerting as fuck that he was a forty old man in the body of a twenty year old. When Mickey had woke up the next morning, after the accidental _“Be mine, I’m yours”_ thing, Ian had been in his younger body, and scared the shit out of him.

According to Mandy and Svetlana, that was what was supposed to happen. The age they were in the vision from the fire was how old they would stay, so for Ian… that meant barely twenty one. (For Svetlana, it was only a couple of years, but still, there were a couple of noticeable differences. Apparently.)

‘What are you staring at?’ Ian asked, raising an eyebrow and tapping his foot quickly. Annoyed. ‘We’re going to be late.’

‘Mandy and Svieta are never on time,’ Mickey grumbled, swinging on his coat and popping up the collar.

‘They’re _girls_ , they’re not supposed to be on time,’ Ian said, trying to maintain the angry edge. It disappeared with a sigh as he fixed that one, fucking stubborn strand of hair of Mickey’s that always flicked in front of his face. ‘You know, you’re still pretty hot for an old dude.’

‘You too,’ Mickey said, leaning up to kiss Ian quickly. ‘Are we goin’ or what?’

‘Mm…’ Ian cocked his head in that way Mickey knew meant something was about to happen, and he was _really_ gonna like it. ‘I think we still have time for a little something something?’

‘I’m sure a few minutes won’t matter,’ Mickey grinned, going back up for another kiss. ‘We’ve got all the time in the world.’

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is the reason i've posted pretty much nothing else this month... hope it was worth it (hah). it got away from me a little. bonus points to you if you catch references to various other fics in here... (or historical events, youtubers, other tv shows... whatever.)
> 
>  
> 
> [come see me on tumblr~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


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